


Make Your Final Choice

by mickytaka558



Series: Begginings and Endings (It Will Never Be the Same Again) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 117,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickytaka558/pseuds/mickytaka558
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well well, if it isn't Ushiwaka-chan~” His voice holds the usual childhood tone he uses around his fangirls, but there is a different, menacing one underneath it that both of them are aware of. “You're in the wrong gym, you know? Are you by any chance lost?”</p><p>Wakatoshi stays still in place, staring down at him, and Tooru finds himself cursing those five centimeters he lacks to stand up to him.</p><p>“No.” Wakatoshi doesn't react to Tooru's teasing, face icy cold like it always is. “I came here for a reason.”</p><p>Tooru tilts his head to the side, the smirk still there but his whole expression turning into one of well-played confusion. “Oh? May I know what it is?”</p><p>“You.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leave Your Grudges Behind And Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru knows that feeling; he's been there so many times and from what it seems Wakatoshi is here to remind him that for good – and it makes the question come out almost spontaneously.
> 
> “If I'm that weak then, why do you want me on your team?”

It's been a week since Karasuno managed to beat Aobajousai and advance to the last match of the prefecture. It was a though loss for the latter team, but there was _always_ that small but bright glint of hope that at least they would be the ones able to beat Shiratorizawa and finally give Wakatoshi a proper lesson.

Tooru was hoping for that; Hajime was too; and so was the rest of their team.

They had wished them luck and asked them to kick _his_ ass for them as well. And Karasuno's players assured them they would.

***

_They don't._

Tooru watches the ravens fall, one by one, and realizes it is really over. Neither this time has he managed to even reach him, let along beat him. He goes home as soon as the ball hits the floor for the last time with bitterness on his tongue.

***

There is one more month to go until graduation.

The third years are already retired from the club to focus on their studies; Shigeru is chosen to become the new captain of the team and they part ways with the promise of one last dinner all together once the finals are over.

However, Tooru still keeps coming to the gym.

He knows should be locked up in his room, devouring his school books and absorbing information until he can't take it anymore; and yet, here he is, after everyone is already gone and he is alone and free to practice until his body begs him to stop.

Today though, he can't focus.

The memory of his team's defeat is still fresh in his mind and even though he keeps telling himself countless times that it is over and he should be _letting it go_ , it still hurts as if that ball slipped through his hands just minutes ago. He doesn't know what to do to make it go away.

He didn't manage to see Wakatoshi after his victory. The bastard didn't even bother to come and watch his match; neither he or him teammates ever have, too aware of and confident in their unstoppable strength to even think about studying their opponents' moves. The only words the two exchanged was when they crossed each other when Tooru's team was leaving.

When Tooru remembers what they told each other, _what Wakatoshi told him_ , he can't help but be pissed off all over again.

Maybe it's better like this though. At least he didn't have to face those eyes on him when he was on court, even if, for a split moment, he found himself wondering how it would have been. When that ball hit the floor, would Wakatoshi have watched him with disappointment? Or maybe pity? Tooru bets on the first one; he can hardly imagine the second.

Fortunately, he will never know.

He jumps for the umpteenth time and hits the ball, making it fly perfectly on the other side of the court. When he lands, he wipes his sweaty face with his shirt before taking in a deep breath. The next one has to be stronger.

Suddenly the door behind him opens.

 _Shit,_ he thinks, realizing only then that it is already dark outside and that Hajime is probably about to kick his ass before dragging him home.

“Ah! Iwa-chan, I was just about to leave-”

He turns around, the best smile he can pull off at the moment already on his face, but his body freezes as soon as he is facing the exit.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru's expression turns blank, body freezing in place while his arms fall limp on his sides. The deep voice echoes in his ears, piercing into his head and making it spin.

 _Ushijima Wakatoshi_.

His mouth is suddenly full of his own saliva and it takes him a moment to realize it and then to swallow until it is empty. He blinks a couple of times, not believing his own eyes, but the image in front of him is crystal clear, whether he finds it pleasant or not (and he definitely _doesn't_ ).

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and then collects himself, because now it's _not_ the time to show himself weak and tired in front of his rival. So he gives it his best shot. He smirks, eyes focusing on the taller man, and heads forward, stopping only when a few steps away.

Their eyes meet.

_And it all begins._

“Well well, if it isn't Ushiwaka-chan~” His voice holds the usual childhood tone he uses around his fangirls, but there is a different, menacing one underneath it that both of them are aware of. “You're in the wrong gym, you know? Are you by any chance lost?”

Wakatoshi stays still in place, staring down at him, and Tooru finds himself cursing those five centimeters he lacks to stand up to him.

“No.” Wakatoshi doesn't react to Tooru's teasing, face icy cold like it always is. “I came here for a reason.”

Tooru tilts his head to the side, the smirk still there but his whole expression turning into one of well-played confusion. “Oh? May I know what it is?”

“You.”

Hazel eyes widen and the whole facade starts to crumble. If he lost faith in his eyes at first, now he is starting not to believe his ears either. At first he opens his mouth, and then he closes it, but Wakatoshi doesn't move from his spot and his expression doesn't give anything out.

 _Stiff as ever, aren't you?_ When the setter manages to digest that sentence, he smirks again, this time in amusement. “Woah, Ushiwaka-chan! Is this a confession?”

Wakatoshi doesn't react this time either; he just rolls his eyes once before they land on Tooru's face again.

The latter pouts, pretending to be disappointed by the lack of answer. “Guess it isn't then,” but he doesn't end it there. He waits for him to speak, because he doubts that Ushijima Wakatoshi is the type of person who wanders around, especially by other schools' gyms, without a reason.

He waits, yes, but all he gets is silence.

So he sighs and turns around, walking to where he left the cart: He pushes it to the other side of the court slowly, and then proceeds to put away the balls scattered all over the place.

Once the court is empty, he turns around and finds Wakatoshi standing in the same place. He rolls his eyes again and leans on the now full container. “You know, if you're planning on staying there without telling me your reasons, I'm leaving.” He waits exactly five seconds - he counts them in his head, maybe a little bit too quickly, and then makes his way to the equipment room.

He adjusts the cart in the free corner and then adjusts the pommel horse the gymnastics team asked them to keep in here for two weeks, until they are done readjusting their own equipment room. It has been a bother since day one, only occupying precious space and making the place even more stuffed than it already was.

When he turns around, he yelps in surprise when he finds Wakatoshi standing behind him, a couple of steps away from the door. “What the hell, Ushiwaka-chan! At least tell me you're here!”

“You have seen me before.”

Tooru rolls his eyes, _again_ ; he is always stating the obvious, isn't he? Then, he rubs his face with both of his hands, trying to keep his cool and hide every possible part of him that shows just how much he doesn't want him to be there. But then he gives up, because Wakatoshi should already know.

“Yeah... I've seen you. But I still don't know _why_ you're here.”

“I told you that too.”

“And I'm asking you to be more specific.” Then, after a short pause, he clicks with his tongue, a grimace replacing the fake smirk from before. “Don't tell me you've come here just to rub salt in my wounds.”

 _Because it still hurts._ And Wakatoshi's presence, so fierce and powerful compared to his own, even after all those years spent in trying to become just as strong, makes it only harder and harder.

The spiker shakes his head. “I am not like you, Oikawa. I do not need something of the sort to make myself feel better.”

Tooru glares at him, but he knows he's right; his past with Tobio must be common knowledge by now. Yet, something like this coming from him just doesn't sound right.

“Then _what_ do you need from me, Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Answer my question.”

Wakatoshi straightens his back, his eyes never leave Tooru's face and just observe, study every detail. Then he opens his mouth and asks something Tooru doesn't expect. Not yet at least.

“Where will you go after graduation?”

Tooru gasps, taken aback by the direct question. He doesn't really understand how the mind of the person in front of him works, he never will: at first, Wakatoshi barely says anything and then he comes up with questions capable of throwing anyone off their feet. Truth to be told, the reason Tooru reacts like this is because he doesn't have a clue on what to do next. He had accepted to go to a few meetings with the coaches of the Miyagi prefecture universities and a couple of others from nearby cities, but he still hasn't given an answer to any of them.

Because what he wants is still missing and it's keeping him from finally making his decision.

“And why do you care about something like that?”

“Because I want you to come with me. To Tokyo.”

Wakatoshi says it as if it were the most normal thing in the world, but to Tooru it feels like a bullet shot directly at his heart, causing him to feel pain in every part of his body. It is humiliating; he is not ready for something like this.

_Tokyo._

The reason why he found himself waiting to give his answer.

He was hoping to be scouted by that one particular university during the Spring High, but no meeting request ever came; and why would it even? He lost so miserably to Karasuno; there is no way anyone would want him after that. Once again, he managed let everyone down and this, _his weakness_ , is what took everything away from him when he needed it the most.

And now here it is.

Hearing Wakatoshi's words makes every cell of Tooru's body doubt about it. Sure, it is something he wanted so badly, but if he even considers it and eventually ends up accepting it, his rivalry with him is going to come to an end. And-

“Why?”

“Because I _want_ you.”

Tooru's mouth drops open, the blood in his veins turns cold.

How could Ushijima Wakatoshi possibly _want_ him after defeating him so many times? He is so, _so_ strong, a player of the National team, a champion; and yet he is here, in front of the weak being that Oikawa Tooru is, because he wants him?

The inside of Tooru's mouth is once again full. And he swallows again.

It takes him longer than he is used to to regain some of his composure.

“Are you sure this is not a love confession, Ushi-”

“Oikawa.”

It is then that Tooru finally understands the true meaning of his words.

He is telling him to give up.

Wakatoshi is telling him to let all of his grudges and rivalry go, to forget all the sweat and tears he wasted while trying so desperately to at least reach him. And he is making it sound as if it all were worthless, nonexistent. He lowers his head, letting his still sweat-damp bangs cover his eyes.

“Just how dare you?”

Wakatoshi blinks.

“How dare you ask me this after everything you've done to me?” The way he puts it is not exactly correct; because Wakatoshi has never forced him to do any of the things he did, not once, but the anger and jealousy in Tooru has always made him put all the blame on him. Maybe it is because of his attitude as well, so cold and distant and unreachable, that keeps pushing the setter to want to touch and grab it and _shatter it_ in pieces with his own two hands.

So, _yes_. He blames him.

“My only goal at the moment is to beat you, you know it. And now you're asking me to just give up on it and come _with_ you?” His voice is louder than he plans, but all the frustration built during these past few weeks have already filled everything that was available. It is him who is crumbling down in the end.

“Yes.”

Tooru's eyes widen for a split second before he narrows them and looks up, ready to reply angrily for the straightforward foolishness of his answer.

“Because you are never going to succeed,” Wakatoshi doesn't give him the chance.

Tooru's muscles stiffen, hands clenching into fists and nails digging harshly into the sweaty palms. His body starts to shake as rage boils inside of him. “I would've shown you if only I had the chance... If it weren't for Karasuno, I would've-”

“Shiratorizawa emerged victorious,” Wakatoshi interrupts, “In the end.”

And of course it did, Tooru thinks. They destroyed Karasuno just the way they used to do with his team, without any sign of mercy; not even a tiny bit. And then they just walked away from the court, as if nothing happened, leaving the losers crouching on the floor, trying so desperately to hold back their tears, but failing miserably.

Tooru knows that feeling; he has been there so many times and from what it seems Wakatoshi is here to remind him that for good; and it makes the question come out almost spontaneously. “If I'm that weak then, _why_ do you want me on your team?”

He observes the way Wakatoshi's expression never falters; he barely blinks a couple of times to avoid his eyes running dry, but there is nothing more. And it angers him to no end just how easily he loses control over himself and how the man in front of him behaves as if there is nothing that could possibly break him from the inside.

“It is your team that is weak. Not you.” Then, he takes a step forward, and Tooru wants to step back so badly it hurts, but his body doesn't want to move, eyes fixed on Wakatoshi's lips as they keep speaking. “And there is nothing you could have ever done to fix that, because they do not have what it takes to take you to the top and obtain victory.”

Tooru grits his teeth. “And let me guess: _you_ are the one who does?”

“Yes.”

There is no hesitation in Ushijima's voice, it is always so steady and deep, but this time Tooru can't help himself from letting out a sarcastic chuckle. “My, my... So humble, aren't you?”

“I am just telling the truth.”

Tooru doesn't want his truth though. He's been training, and planning, and watching for all these years. And he's going to reach him, one way or another. He shakes his head. “I'll find a way to beat you.” He and Hajime can do it, no matter what team they're on. They are going to make it in the end.

Wakatoshi seems to read what is on his mind.

“You must be referring to your number four, am I correct?” He sees as Tooru's expression grows stiff, mouth gaping open to say something, but no sound comes out in the end. Because once again he is not done. “Iwaizumi Hajime... He won't be enough to beat me; he is too weak.”

It is all it takes for Tooru to snap.

“Don't drag Iwa-chan into this!” He is yelling, his body is madly shaking with anger, but he doesn't care anymore. It doesn't matter if his composure is gone; Wakatoshi has clearly come here with this intention and they're alone, so he can allow it just this once.

The spiker can call him weak, useless and whatever else he wants, but belittling Hajime and his hard work... That Tooru won't allow. As his captain. As his setter.

Wakatoshi doesn't seem too concerned or shocked by Tooru's reaction. He just shrugs, a sign of an open challenge towards him. “We both know what I am saying is correct,” and then he approaches him even more, until there are barely two steps between them, until Tooru struggles to look up and into those piercing, gold eyes.

“I have watched your games,” Wakatoshi begins and Tooru freezes, not being able to believe what he just heard - he has never seen him around when he was playing. “I see it, Oikawa.”

Suddenly he feels a lump growing in his throat and there are some seconds during which he isn't able to speak. Fortunately, he manages to regain his voice, because he can't afford to stay silent anymore.

“What do you see?”

Wakatoshi raises his hand and lays it on the setter's shoulder and then slides it over to his neck and then to his chin, finally coming to a stop when it is resting on his cheek. “I see you constantly slogging and hurting yourself to use your teammates' abilities to the fullest, but none of them is able to repay you the way you deserve. You need someone as good as you.”

Tooru pulls away from him, stunned by the sudden contact, but then shakes his head. “And once again, let me guess: that person is you.” The sarcastic tone is back, but it doesn't hold up as good as it did before.

“Yes. Or someone as good as me, assuming you manage to find him here.”

“My my, Ushiwaka-chan... You really need to work on that humble attitude of yours.” Wakatoshi doesn't react to it and waits until Tooru gets serious again. “Do you really enjoy acting superior that much?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head slightly. “I am not acting, Oikawa. _I_ am stronger than you, _my team_ is stronger than yours and you should just be able to accept it. Had you had enough common sense before you chose to come here instead of Shiratorizawa, you wouldn't have worked so hard for nothing-”

“Excuse me?” Tooru interrupts him, bewildered. Because this is too much. Tooru is not going to handle him talking any more shit about his teammates.

“For _nothing_? My work, _our_ work gave results in the end!”

“Were they ever enough?”

This time, Tooru can't hold himself back anymore. His body reacts on instinct, like it happened three years ago and he raises his arm, hand clenched into a fist, and punches towards him, not being able to wait to savor the moment it'll finally come in contact with his face.

But it doesn't happen.

When only an inch away from him, Wakatoshi grabs his wrist, blocking his hand in midair and shoving the setter's body against the wall. When his back comes in contact with it, Tooru lets out a yelp and from the corner of his eye, he sees his hand pressed next to his head, the strong grip holding it in place. When he focuses back in front of him with a frown, he notices Wakatoshi's face is inches apart from his own. He immediately tries to push him away with his free hand, but that attempt too ends up blocked as soon as it pops on his mind, and his wrist ends up in the same situation as the first.

Tooru grits his teeth, helplessly. He tries to struggle as much as he can to free himself, but Wakatoshi doesn't budge. He just s _tares._

Tooru clicks with his tongue. “Let me go, Ushiwaka. I know I'm incredibly hot, but you don't have to stare like this.”

The lack of answer makes him think he just made a mistake using that sentence, because it could imply God knows what, and the familiar, uncomfortable feeling inside his stomach; the same he had before all those matches and after all those losses is back.

So he moves his body even more, trying to kick him with his foot, but everything he gets in return is Wakatoshi sliding his leg between his to prevent him even that much, and Tooru hisses when his thigh comes in contact with his crotch. “What are you doing, you idiot?! Let me go! NOW!”

Wakatoshi doesn't obey despite the harsh and commanding tone and instead he adjusts his grip on him, raising his arms above his head and pinning both his wrists with one hand, so the other one is let free. “Ushiwa- Ahn!” The pressure between his legs becomes more intense when Ushijima presses his body against his, gold eyes piercing into hazel ones until he finally closes the distance between them, first licking Tooru's bottom lip gently and then meeting his lips with his own.

Tooru stops breathing. He doesn't move, doesn't respond in anyway, his brain having enormous difficulty to process what's just happening to him. He feels his muscles tense all of a sudden and the position he is trapped in turns to be quite a painful one.

Wakatoshi notices his lack of participation and pulls away slightly, only leaving a minimal distance between their lips. He watches as Tooru's wide eyes stare at him, mouth slightly opened as if trying to say something, but missing the words to do so. And just for a moment, Wakatoshi thinks about how nice it is to have Oikawa Tooru standing in front of him, completely _silent._

“What the-”

Wakatoshi silences him with another kiss. This time it is hotter, more aggressive; he nibbles on his bottom lip until the setter opens his mouth wider with a gasp and he loses no time to enter it with his tongue. He hears a soft moan coming from him as he once again tries to resist him and waves his arms underneath his grip, trying to set himself free.

In response, He only adds more pressure with his leg, and Tooru pulls abruptly away from his lips with a moan.

The silence that comes afterward is awkward, for Tooru at least: he blushes furiously and tries to look away, waiting for his mind to be anything but blank. But he doesn't find what he is looking for and instead feels the pleased gaze of Wakatoshi all over him. He pouts slightly. “What are you looking at?”

Wakatoshi brushes his leg against him again and Tooru bites his lip as his breath hitches in his throat. When he somehow gets used to it, he speaks again. “Let me go.”

The spiker shakes his head and moves his free hand to the fabric of his pants where his t-shirt is tucked in. He pulls it out with his fingers, very carefully not to shift their position, and when most of it is out, he slides them under it, feeling the soft skin and hard muscles of Tooru's stomach.

Tooru lets out a shaky breath and his head starts to hurt. He can't believe this is happening. Just where is all his strength and will to make this man submit?

He feels Ushijima moving his hand to his back, fingertips tracing the small bumps of his spine. Unconsciously he also weakens the hold on his wrists, and Tooru doesn't wait for him to remember about it. He slides his hands away harshly and pushes against his chest before turning to run the few steps he needs to get out of the damn room.

Wakatoshi doesn't let him.

They are too close to each other for Tooru's plan to succeed.

Instead he finds himself pinned against the now closed door, except his hands are now free, but still unable to be used properly.

Wakatoshi tries to meet his lips again, but this time Tooru puts his hand between their faces, so his mouth comes in contact with his palm. “Stop it! I don't want this!” He is starting to panic. There is no one in the gym who can help him and Wakatoshi doesn't seem to be willing to let go.

“But I do.”

His lips move against every single one of Tooru's fingers, before he grabs his arm and pulls it down, leaving the setted speechless and more confused than ever. “W-what?” This is not some kind of joke anymore - not that he thought it was until now, but the confirm he gets from him is making it so _real._

“I want you _with me_. I want you all to myself.”

And there is the most sincere look coming along these words and Tooru is not stupid enough to think he's lying. Because Ushijima Wakatoshi _never_ lies.

His body grows limp against the wooden door, his head now free of any pain, his efforts to desperately try to find a way to escape are disappearing because there seems to be no more place for them.

Now he knows.

_Everything._

He had always thought about it in the past, even when Wakatoshi came to him at the end of his third year of middle school to ask him to join him in Shiratorizawa, but in the end he always ended up brushing it off and telling himself not to be stupid, because there is no way it could be true. But behind all those grudges and jealousy there has always been something else, something Tooru has always taken great care to put away and hide in the deepest depth of his heart and now it's coming to the surface all at once, crushing the walls and spilling out, and Tooru knows there's no way to stop it now.

He feels Wakatoshi's fingers on his cheek and then on the back of his head, pulling him forward. The warmth coming from his body is closer, welcoming him into it and when he stops moving, faces only inches apart, Tooru realizes he is doomed.

_He falls._

Before he knows it, he is already taking the initiative and closing the distance between them by leaning in into a kiss that starts off gentle, mouths only brushing slightly. He feels Wakatoshi's lips curving up and for a moment he's tempted to pull away to witness it with his own eyes and not only with his skin, but the spiker doesn't give him the chance.

Soon, Tooru is pressed back against the door, but this time the contact doesn't come violently like the first; Wakatoshi's hands slowly slide down his body and land on his hips, eager fingers slowly daring up underneath his shirt to touch where they left off before. Tooru notices it's much gentler this time, almost unfamiliar; he doesn't expect it.

Wakatoshi presses himself against him, mouth now moving from the corner of his lips to his jaw and then to his neck, carefully kissing every part of the exposed skin.

Tooru can't hold back a gasp when he feels gentle nibbling under his ear, eyes fluttering close as he raises his arms to grip on the fabric of Wakatoshi's shirt.

Wakatoshi keeps the soft ministrations for a while, until he has enough and pulls away, leaving Tooru startled, and starts to take off the light blue shirt off. Tooru raises his arms to let him do it, his mind constantly screaming and telling him to stop, but his body not giving a damn and just _letting_ him.

Once removed, the shirt gets tossed away, somewhere in the back of the room, and Wakatoshi has already wrapped his arms around the setter and has him moving towards the pile of mattresses next to the door, where he makes him sit. He then spreads his legs and positions himself between them.

For the whole time, Tooru looks at him. He lets all his past grudges and doubts aside for a moment and just _looks._

He notices the glint in Wakatoshi's eyes as he takes a moment to let them wander over Tooru's newly exposed skin and when he approaches him again to kiss him, he allows him and opens his mouth, meeting him halfway.

Tooru has never expected such a gentle touch to be able to come from one of the strongest players in Japan and someone with such a personality like his. He definitely _doesn't_ dislike it, he decides, especially when the object of this gentleness is himself.

He kisses him back, finally allowing himself to fully wrap his own arms around the taller man's torso. When they pull away to breathe, Tooru impatiently tugs at the Shiratorizawa jacket Wakatoshi's still wearing, so the latter slides it down his arms and drops it at his feet. But the setter isn't satisfied yet. He starts tugging at the shirt underneath as well, a small pout forming on his lips. “Off.”

Wakatoshi complies, raising his shirt up and taking it off, only to reveal his firm muscles, covered by thick, ripped flesh and skin. Tooru unconsciously licks his lips, hands starting to shake because of the lack of contact and it stops only when Wakatoshi allows him to make them roam all over his body, to touch, to _feel_ every part of him.

Hazel eyes look up to meet gold, and Wakatoshi catches it. He sees Tooru's body tensing and to relieve it he wraps his arm around his lower back and before he can do anything else, Tooru is already grinding against him. He is already half hard, Wakatoshi notices, just like him.

Tooru groans at the friction, throwing his head back as he keeps forcing his hips to meet the spiker's. Wakatoshi grunts a couple of times and then takes advantage of Tooru's position to place an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss on his exposed throat, making him moan loudly.

He then pulls abruptly away from him, receiving in response a desperate whine and a disappointed (and perhaps confused) look.

It is now Tooru who is searching for him. He moves forward, gripping on his upper arms tightly and pulling him towards himself. Wakatoshi understands that teasing him is no longer an option and decides it is time to take it further to the next level.

His hands are already on his thighs, slowly sliding up to the fabric of his shorts only to start tugging on them to slide them down his legs. Tooru raises his hips from the mattress to let them be removed and then watches as Wakatoshi throws them away as well. As soon as they hit the floor, they are forgotten, because Wakatoshi is already kissing him and palming his erection through his briefs, making Tooru moan loudly, feeding his voice to the spiker.

Tooru is forced to pull away to breathe when the hand slides underneath the cloth and wraps around his cock. He feels himself growing weaker, eyes shutting and arms falling back for support. He completely submits himself to the next assault on his lips, opening his mouth and letting Wakatoshi enter it with his tongue.

His mind goes blank when the hand around his cock finally starts to move slowly, the thumb brushing over the slit every now and then, bringing him closer to the edge. Wakatoshi doesn't take his time with it; he seems to be impatient now, because the pace he moves against him is fast; and Tooru opens his mouth to say it, but as soon as he does, three fingers of Wakatoshi's free hand are shoved inside and pressed against his tongue.

Hazel eyes widen, but Wakatoshi's gaze makes him understand in the end. He sucks on them gently, tongue swirling around them, making sure to coat them enough with his saliva and when he is sure they are slick enough, he pulls away, giving a small, almost invisible nod.

Wakatoshi doesn't lose time; he pushes him down gently, so he is lying on his back on the mattress and his legs are hanging down at first, until Wakatoshi pulls down his briefs and exposes his already leaking cock. He watches as Tooru raises his legs to his chest, and then he is touching him again.

With the other hand, he reaches his hole and rubs the first moist finger around it a couple of times before pushing in. Tooru hisses at the sudden intrusion, but Wakatoshi's expression is telling him to relax, so he does, taking in a few deeps breaths; the spiker doesn't kiss him, giving him the opportunity to do so.

He feels the digit sink in down to the base, moving and teasing his inner walls to stretch them. When he pulls it out, Tooru lets out a gasp, and when he enters him again, there are two of them. Tooru lets out a small cry, body tensing because of the increbly strong pressure.

It is not painful, no, just a little uncomfortable, but Tooru has done this plenty of times to know it is not going to last long. He is quick to relax around him, and Wakatoshi's hand around his cock eases the job a lot. The entrance of the third finger is the easiest one, because by then, Tooru is already moving his hips against them, letting out lewd sounds every time the fingers are inside him down to the base.

And then Wakatoshi curls them, brushing against his prostate, and his eyes split open, back arching as a wave of pleasure runs up his spine. What he sees above him is Wakatoshi with a smirk and it doesn't take much for Tooru to get he is apparently an amusing sight for his eyes; well, he _is_ at his mercy after all. His body isn't listening to him anymore, only reacting to the other man's touch, almost begging for more.

Wakatoshi gives it to him immediately.

He works his cock faster, timing the thrusts of his fingers with it, and every thought that Tooru managed to form in the meanwhile disappears without a trace as he reduces himself into a moaning mess that is soon shut up with a sloppy kiss.

It is hard to breathe with lips against his, his lungs are screaming for air as he slowly reaches his edge, warmth pooling inside his stomach.

“Ahn! U-Ushiwa- Hmph!”

Wakatshi doesn't let him, crashing his lips against the setter's.

Tooru's body shudders underneath him, arms moving around and grabbing his bare shoulders, nails painfully digging in and scratching until Wakatoshi pulls away-

“P-please... I'm- Ahn!”

Wakatoshi's grip around him tightens and with one last twist of his wrist, Tooru comes with a loud moan, warm semen spilling all over the spiker's hand.

His body collapses backwards, falling limp of the soft fabric of the mattress, eyes closed and chest raising up and down to catch his breath again. Tooru feels it growing weak as he finally gets down from his high, somehow relieved that it's over.

But then he opens his eyes and he realizes just how wrong he is.

Wakatoshi is standing in front of him, the stained hand raised up slightly as he watches the brunette in front of him. And then his other hand is back on his cock, and Tooru lets out a strangled sound, his body oversensitive from before. It is making it rather uncomfortable.

But then he is pulled up and on his feet, turned around so his back is pressed against Ushijima's chest. Only then he realizes just how hard Wakatoshi is, when his clothed erection is pressed against his ass. His breath hitches in his throat when he is pushed against the pommel horse and then bent over it.

He hears the shuffling of clothes from behind him &ndash Wakatoshi lowers his pants enough to pull his hard cock out and then proceeds to smear Tooru's cum all over it to use it as a lubricant. The setter turns around, still quite shocked; he was expecting to give him a blowjob in return, but he was _not_ expecting this ; and when he feels the big hands of the spiker being placed on his hips, he tries to move away.

But Wakatoshi reacts faster and ends up leaning forward and pressing his arm against his back, hand grabbing the back of his neck to hold him still. And Tooru doesn't try to escape from him again.

He feels the head of his cock slowly pressing against his entrance and then it's pushing against it, slowly making its way in. Tooru lets out a scream when he feels his muscles being forced open inch by inch until Wakatoshi is inside of him whole.

Tooru's body starts to shake in pain and Wakatoshi doesn't move, waiting for him to adjust to the feeling. He bends over him, careful not to move his hips, and places gentle kisses on his nape and shoulders. The hand on his neck moves down Tooru's body to wrap itself around his cock, slowly moving over it, and it doesn't take long for the setter to get hard again.

Wakatoshi gives an experimental thrust and what he gets in return is a soft moan. He nibbles gently on his ear, and Tooru finally turns his head to glance at him from the corner of his eye. His gaze is weak, tired, and Wakatoshi can't believe he is having it in front of him like this.

“Y-you can move...”

The words are a mere whisper, stuffed between gasps and deep breaths he is taking to calm down and Wakatoshi knows that if he said it, it means it's true. So he straightens up, anchoring his hands on his hips and raising him up gently adjust him better on the pommel horse. Now he can thrust at a perfect angle, and he does, hitting immediately Tooru's sweet spot.

Tooru buries his face in the leather underneath him and it swallows all the moans and cries he lets out for a while, until he turns his head to the side, resting his cheek on it instead.

The first few thrusts are slow, but Tooru moans nonetheless - Wakatoshi goes deep and makes sure it feels good for him; he keeps hitting the right spot with each thrust - and then it goes faster. And harder.

Tooru's voice gets louder, knuckles turning white as he desperately tries to clutch the light-colored material under his hands. He also hears Wakatoshi starting to grunt, the grip on his hips tightening considerably and he is pretty sure it's going to leave a mark.

But he is not in a condition to care at the moment.

“Ahn! U-ushi- Ngh!”

The need to reach down his body to grab his cock is overwhelming, but the way Wakatoshi holds him trapped underneath himself makes it impossible.

Wakatoshi rams into him even faster and Tooru feels his eyes rolling back into his head as he moans his lungs out, his body getting close to his second orgasm and he's not sure he can handle it. His muscles tense once again, his inner walls clamping tightly around Wakatoshi's cock.

The spiker's voice comes out as well and he instinctively pushes Tooru against the pommel horse even more. He loses his rhythm with every thrust, until they both are so close it becomes just an erratic meeting of hips.

Tooru has never been fucked like this, so viciously and yet so... thorough; if Wakatoshi wasn't hitting that one spot inside him that makes him go crazy every time he comes in contact with it, Tooru's pretty sure every thrust of his would feel as if it were ripping him apart. He still needs one more thing though.

“P-please- Ahn! Touch me, U- _Ushijima_...”

Wakatoshi doesn't comply this time; instead, he keeps moving the way he has until now and Tooru realizes that, if he keeps it up, he is going come just from having his ass fucked, and it is most likely going to be more intense than it was the first time.

He tries to turn around once again, dragging his teeth over the skin of his bottom lip but it stops when he keens high in his throat once Wakatoshi is grinding into his ass with pure brute force, and his head ends up dropping soundlessly on the leather.

“You feel so good-”

Tooru barely hears those words, too busy with screaming himself raw; he doesn't even bother wiping away the drool that comes out of his mouth and flows down his chin. Instead, he focuses on the feeling in his lower stomach, growing and _painfully_ growing until it crests and his cock jolts, and he is coming so hard Wakatoshi is forced to hold him still, otherwise they'd both be losing their balance and falling onto the floor.

His mouth gapes open but no sound comes out, lungs too empty to let any. His muscles spasm harder as Wakatoshi keeps fucking him through his orgasm, his heartbeat so fast he feels his heart might just break his bones and rip his skin and fall out like nothing.

And then Wakatoshi's giving the last, impossibly hard thrusts before burying himself inside of him down to the base and letting out a sound that almost seems like a roar. Tooru feels warm semen exploding inside of him and whines, trying &ndash but not really &ndash to change position, his inner muscles spasming uncontrollably at the feeling of being filled up.

They are both panting by the end of it. Wakatoshi finally lets go of Tooru's hips and pulls his softening cock out of him, some of his cum spilling out and dripping down Tooru's inner thigh.

He watches it for a moment, wondering whether he should wipe it off or not; and he chooses the second option; he can clean him up later - and ends up bending over him to lean his chest on his back. As soon as he catches some of his breath, his mouth finds the skin of Tooru's shoulder like before and kisses it.

He is gentle; extremely gentle; maybe even more than he was in the beginning.

They stay like that for a while and eventually Wakatoshi shifts on his feet so he's not over him with his full weight. His hands find their way to Tooru's back, caressing it whole with open palms, feeling the shape of his rib cage on his sides but the setter doesn't react to any of it.

His eyes are closed, body extremely limp underneath the spiker and for a moment he thinks he might have fainted. But when he kisses his nape, he feels him twisting his neck as he turns his head to the side. Wakatoshi looks at his eyes, empty and transparent, so he just holds him in place, steadily, until he is sure he is fine again.

He knows he is when his body moves, trying to stand straight, so Wakatoshi moves away and gives him space.

Tooru's body is shaky, and when he tries to climb off the pommel horse, Wakatoshi tries to give him a hand so he's sure he won't collapse.

But Tooru pushes him away.

“Don't touch me!”

So Wakatoshi doesn't. He'll take this time to adjust his clothes properly. He pulls up his pants and briefs and then looks around for his t-shirt. When he finds it, in the corner of the room where he threw it before, he picks it up and puts it on. Then he once more checks on Tooru, who's still standing where he left off, leaned against the pommel horse with his arms.

He seems to be in a daze, so Wakatoshi decides to give him more time.

Tooru is thinking, his mind slowly clearing up.

The realization of what just happened between them - of what he let Wakatoshi do to him - dawns upon him and slaps him right in the face, and he feels as if everything he has done until now is crumbling in his hands. He hopes it's a dream, but every part of the room, the mess they made, his very own naked and aching body-

_It is very much real._

And then Wakatoshi is behind him. Tooru feels warmth on his chin and suddenly his body is being turned around and his head is being raised up until their lips meet for the umpteenth time that evening. His eyes widen, the way he's feeling is just something he can't control. Being so submissive is not how he is. He-

“Oikawa.”

He is dragged away from his thoughts when Wakatoshi calls his name and only then he realizes he is still being held by those strong arms.

It can't be. It can't be; _it can't-_

“What are you doing?” The question leaves his mouth almost immediately, but all he gets in return is a confused look and a raised eyebrow. He feels Wakatoshi cupping his cheek carefully, as gentle as possible and he just doesn't understand. Nothing makes sense anymore.

“I am kissing you,” he says.

It takes Tooru some time to process it and as soon as he does, he pushes him away. “Move away. I want to dress up.” And he feels disgusted with himself.

He is the type of guy who permanently holds grudges; his rivalry with Wakatoshi turned into hate as time went by and he has never stopped thinking about him with that focused in his mind. It is because of him that he has always keeps training to exhaustion. It is because of him he and Hajime have cried so many times. It is because of him that he ended up hurting himself so badly that he is to wear a knee supporter for the rest of his life.

And now he let him do _this_ to him. And the worst thing of all is that he actually _liked_ it. The way Wakatoshi kissed him, the way he touched him...

He shakes his head, turning away abruptly. He takes in a deep breath before he starts seeking for his clothes, which are sprawled across the small storage room. As soon as he reaches every piece, he wears them quickly, angrily, not even bothering to wipe the now almost dry sperm still staining his leg, and the only voice shouting inside his head is telling him _this shouldn't have happened._

“What?”

It is then that Tooru realizes he said it out loud. _Dammit..._

He doesn't turn around. He doesn't face him; he _doesn't want_ to face him. Who knows what kind of look Wakatoshi is wearing right now; who knows what is inside of his mind. He must be so proud of himself now that he managed make him submit like he has wanted to do for so many years.

He feels the spiker behind himself again; a hand slides on his shoulder, caresses him with the lightest of touches. Tooru pulls away. “Don't touch me!” It comes too harsh and he immediately looks at him, an involuntary apology plastered all over his face. But he means what he said. “Please... Don't touch me.” His voice is weaker now, so much that it comes out as a quiet whisper.

Yet, that still won't change what happened in the past half an hour (maybe even longer, Tooru doesn't know) inside this room. And the thought of Hajime, how he did this behind his back... Sure, they are not together, they have never been; but they were exclusive. His spiker is the only one he ever let do anything to him. And now-

Blood boils inside his veins and he just can't take it anymore. He reaches for the mattresses, punching them once as hard as he can to let out all the anger and frustration and then ends up leaned over the pile.

Wakatoshi only watches, waiting for him to collect himself a bit before approaching him again. When he is sure he will no be receiving the blow like those poor things, he decides to speak,to ask: “What's wrong?”

Tooru's body tenses, head turning towards him and disbelief written all over his face. “ _What's wrong?!_ How can you ask me what's wrong? Were you even here in the last half an hour?”

That doesn't answer Wakatoshi's doubts. It leaves him even more confused, if possible.

Tooru understands the situation immediately and waves his hand, motioning to both of them. “ _This_ shouldn't have happened.”

“I heard what you said before.”

“Then what else do you want me to say?”

“Why?”

Tooru swallows. He should have expected that.

Wakatoshi approaches him wordlessly; he wants Tooru to speak; to let him know what is on his mind. He can't make it better if he doesn't know what is wrong. Tooru turns to the side, his weight now shifted on the pommel horse as he leans on it with his lower back.

“This is just wrong,” he begins. “I trained for years, ended up collapsing quite a few times and even hurting myself beyond repair... To get better even just a little and to beat you. We've been against each other so many times and our attempts ended up in miserable failure every time. I swore I hated you and I promised I wouldn't give up. And now _this_.”

The proposal Wakatoshi has brought to him is the root of his messy feelings. That, and the fact that he just reduced himself to beg the spiker to fuck him after just a couple of nice words, he assumes, Wakatoshi didn't even mean in the first place.

Wakatoshi proves him wrong the second later. He places himself in front of him, making sure he is unable able to escape and avoid him again and then he raises his arms and wraps his jacket around the setter's shoulders.

Tooru jumps immediately, ready to shove it off himself, but Wakatoshi holds it firmly against his body, preventing him to do so. “I don't need it!” Because those colors burn.

Wakatoshi, however, doesn't listen and, with a lot of effort,manages to force Tooru into sliding his arms into the sleeves and then adjusting it so it keeps him warm. After all the sweat of his practice and their previous activity, if his body grows cold now, he will probably get sick.

“I do not really understand you, Oikawa.”

Tooru snorts. “And how could you, possibly? You've never even come closer to experience what I have. You've always won and got everything you wanted.” His words are cold; colder than they would be on a normal day when he tries to provoke him before a match. Because now things between them are changed and they're most likely not going to be back the way they were before.

“And now you consider yourself as one of my prizes as well, right?”

All he gets is a glare and he deducts the answer is a yes. “I want to win, Ushiwaka...” Once again, it's a whisper.

Wakatoshi sighs.

Tooru is still glaring, clearly pissed off by so many things by now and there is nothing much he can do about it. He cups his cheek and, even though Tooru tries to resist him again, he somehow manages to keep him still and still hold him.

“Would it help you if I told you that if you come with me, that feeling will be gone? You want to win and I can bring you victory.” The hand on his cheek moves up to move a strand of brown hair from the setter's face, a small smile appears on the spiker's face. “I would have already brought it to you, had you chosen me since the beginning.”

Even this sentence feels like a slap in the face, and Tooru wonders how he can make him feel like this with plain, truthful words. He is making him doubt every single choice he's made ever since he got into middle school. And something in his chest starts to hurt badly when he thinks that _maybe_ all that was a mistake. _Maybe_ he should have chosen Wakatoshi from the start.

He observes the way Wakatoshi's eyes are lingering on his body, an obviously satisfied expression on his face. Tooru doesn't remember if he's ever seen him showing so many emotions in one day - he has probably never showed so many during all of their meetings smashed together.

“What are you looking at?”

Wakatoshi flinches, as if his words just pulled him down to Earth. And then Tooru feels warm skin against himself and there is peace in his chest, his heartbeat back to its normal rhythm.

“This jacket suits you.”

It is not just about the jacket, Tooru knows. “You're mocking me now, aren't you?” But then he lowers his head, moving it away from Wakatoshi's touch and shrugs. “It's too late now anyway.”

“It is not.”

“Huh?”

“You can still fix your mistakes,” Wakatoshi tells him. If he chooses him now, university is going to be _their_ chance. Sure, there are going to be lots of stronger players, especially because it would be Tokyo  &ndash but Wakatoshi could finally play at his fullest strength. Because he would have Tooru as his setter.

He should have used different words perhaps.

Because Tooru shakes his head.

“They weren't a mistake,” he begins, before looking up with a small smile on his face. “I don't regret coming here; I love this team.” They are his team and he is their captain. And he loves them no matter if they win or lose, because that is all part of the game.

Wakatoshi's admiration for him grows even more after he says this. Because this is what he has always wanted.

_Loyalty._

“You are so loyal to them even though they failed you so many times,” _I want that._ And he doesn't need to say it out loud.. He will never fail him if Tooru chooses him right now.

He _wants_ Tooru to choose him so bad and the thought of his possible rejection makes him feel weird.

“Winning is not everything.”

Gold eyes widen.

“It might be the final goal of every sport, but I'd choose without hesitation countless losses with a team that's there for me no matter what, instead of always winning and be left alone.”

Now it is Wakatoshi's turn to be speechless. How could he possibly know? His throat suddenly feels dry when he realizes that Tooru doesn't seem to be joking. He managed to analyze him, see right through him the moment he merely wished to have him by his side, and he did it under such a mental pressure. He really _is_ something and, just this once, Wakatoshi figures, he might have lost to him.

“I never thought you could say something like this.” He has always seen him cry and reach out for victory. He has always wanted to advance to nationals so badly, and every time he crushed him down, he always came back up and behind him, ready for the next round. And these words hardly sound like what he is used to hear from him...

But it doesn't mean it is not the truth.

“See? Sometimes even I can mange to surprise you, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi breathes.

Because there is a smile on the setter's face and those brown eyes are shining again. He is not regretting what they have done anymore, Wakatoshi realizes, because he is letting him stay close to him even when he wraps his arms around him. He doesn't know why he is doing it again, even though he has been pushed away so many times, but holding Tooru against his chest like this, letting him bury his face in his neck-

It is making him feel good.

“Ne, Ushiwaka-chan, it's getting late. We should leave.”

“Yes.”

They pull away from each other, quickly clean the mess they made and then get out of the dark room.

“I'll go grab my bag, so give me a minute,” Tooru says and, without giving Wakatoshi the time to reply, makes his way to the locker room. Once he is in, he shuts the door behind him and then leans against it with his back.

_What has he done?_

He licks his dry lips as memories from before flash through his mind. He lets out a shaky breath, blood rushes to his cheeks.

_What now?_

He takes slow steps to reach his bag and when he opens it, he pulls out his school sweatpants and puts them on, not bothering to clean himself up - he is going to take a shower once he is home.

He sees his Aobajousai jacket right there, neatly folded (Shigeru probably did it before he left, because he remembers leaving it sprawled across the floor) and put at the bottom of his bag.

And he wants to take it out, but his eyes wander down his body, observing the purple and white uniform he is wearing for a moment. He pushes away the thought of removing it and quickly changes his shoes and closes the bag. After collecting all his belongings, he heads out.

He finds Wakatoshi waiting for him and _it is weird._

He is standing on the side of the court, staring at the net, expressionless and still like a rock.

“Ushiwaka-chan?” He approaches him slowly and then stands next to him, looking questioningly at the same spot, trying to see what he sees.

“I want to spike your toss someday, Oikawa.”

Tooru's smile widens. He just can't help it. Wakatoshi is blunt as always and maybe he kind of likes that, as ridiculous as it can be. He still needs to consider his offer. Tokyo might have always been his first choice for the future, but he needs to think about it seriously. Because if he says yes, lots of things will begin from there.

“Maybe one day, Ushiwaka-chan. If you're going to be a good boy that is~” He pats him gently on the shoulder before turning and heading towards the exit.

***

Wakatoshi walks with him until they are forced to part ways. “Let me give you your jacket back,” Tooru says, ready to remove his bag from his shoulder.

“You can keep it.”

“Huh?”

“The third years are already retired at Shiratorizawa, so I will not need it anymore. You can keep it,” He wants him to, but once again, he doesn't complete his sentence, and just looks at him.

Tooru nods. “I should go then...”

“Wait.” Wakatoshi approaches him and looks down at him and Tooru curses those five centimeters once again. “Let me know what you decide.” His voice is gentle and Tooru doesn't remember ever hearing him talk like this to someone.

He nods again. “Alright.”

They stay in silence, only looking at each other for a long moment. And to both of them it seems endless.

“Would you like to come to my place?” Wakatoshi asks all of a sudden.

Tooru's eyes widen slightly, but he keeps smiling. “Maybe next time, Ushiwaka-chan.” The promise of a next time hits both of them as soon as the sentence is over, but Wakatoshi doesn't comment on it and Tooru doesn't bother to correct himself, because anything else would feel too much like a lie he isn't willing to tell.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Tooru turns on his heel, slowly starting to head towards his house, and he can't wait to arrive, get in and take a hot, steaming shower. He already knows he is not going to be able to sleep tonight; too many thoughts are filling his head with every passing second. He doesn't know that it is going to be the same for Wakatoshi as well and just this once, he misses a very important detail.

***

Wakatoshi stands on the same spot, watching him in silence until he disappears around the corner of the street.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't know what this is.
> 
> I felt like writing some UshiOi smut and this came out.
> 
> I don't know why, but I've always imagined Ushijima being some kind of a gentle giant, especially towards Oikawa. He always acts strong and cold, but I think that deep down he's the exact opposite.  
> He wants Oikawa as his setter, so I think he wouldn't have any problems in asking him - blunt as he is.
> 
> In the manga he also said he wants a setter to submit himself to him, the ace, but I think he'd treat Oikawa differently, just because he'd be able to make him use his full strength and abilities.
> 
> I apologize if they seem so out of characters in here, but since we don't know too much about Ushijima's personality, this is as far as my imagination gets me - I also want Ushiwaka-chan to spoil Oikawa-san so bad -.
> 
> \---
> 
> Thank you very much for reading this and a big hug and thank you in advance for all the Kudos and Bookmarks. Comments are appreciated too.


	2. Of Unknown Guilts and Heartbreaking Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime pulls away from him and returns to his place, sitting properly this time, as if trying to digest the words, while Tooru continues, “I want to keep playing volleyball and that team is one of the best ones around and I want to become a part of it.” He then looks at Hajime intensely, observes as he lowers his head, waiting for him to reply.
> 
> Because he is waiting for an I'll be there or I'm coming with you.
> 
> None of them comes.

“ _What's wrong, Oikawa?”_

_It comes unexpected and it is just like he had predicted; Tooru doesn't want it to. Because it is not something he can tell him without hurting them both._

***

It has been a week since his meeting with Wakatoshi and there still isn't a day, a moment, when Tooru isn't thinking about it. There are three weeks left until graduation and he still hasn't made up his mind.

“ _Come with me. To Tokyo.”_

Wakatoshi's words constantly echo in the back of his mind, awaking every single memory of that evening, which often makes him end up bright red in the face, blood circulating in his veins more than necessary and he is forced to calm all of it down under the covers of his bed or under the warm water of the shower.

He remembers it too clearly; those words, so deep and piercing, the ever gentle touch that made him see stars, and those kisses-

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

Tooru can't even count the times he has ended up cumming all over his hand while thinking about it, and every single time, instead of giving him the pleasing satisfaction of a release, it creates a heavy burden in his chest, something he still doesn't know how to send away, and that doesn't get lighter even as the time goes by.

It keeps leaving him with a trembling body, watery eyes and an undying crave for more that just _doesn't_ go away.

Today is no different.

Ever since he woke up, he has had this strange feeling in his stomach, the kind of feeling he always has when something is about to go wrong. And there is only a certain number of things that could wrong at this time, _one_ in particular, which absolutely must be prevented.

He needs to get his shit together.

Because there is no way he is going to be able to everything with his mind in such a state; even though he feels bitterness on his tongue and in the back of his throat when he thinks about it, _about him._

_Hajime._

They didn't manage to have a proper conversation after the tournament ended, and he misses him: he misses spending whole afternoons together, laughing while playing a stupid game, with Tooru constantly teasing him and Hajime kicking him and then kissing it better like he always does when it hurts too much.

Tooru would like that right now.

However, as strange as it might feel, he feels relieved somehow. Hajime hasn't found out about that night, and it is not in Tooru's plans to tell him. But he knows he is going to discover his secret sooner or later and it would be a lie if the setter said he isn't afraid of it, even if he doesn't see it coming yet. But the lump in his throat that comes when he imagines Hajime's pained and disgusted expression makes it hard to breathe, kicks all the air in his lungs out and doesn't allow him to get any back in.

He doesn't want to see that.

_Ever._

He makes his way out of his room and heads downstairs to the living room, letting his body fall onto the couch after he gets a hold of the remote control and turns on the TV. He has been feeling exhausted for a while now and wouldn't mind a bit of sleep, but he knows that, if he closes his eyes, those images are going to come back.

He fights with it, but his body prevails on him for the umpteenth time and his eyes flutter close after not even ten minutes.

And it is inevitable.

“ _Oikawa.”_

“Fuck...” he curses under his breath, cheeks flushing red and body tensing more than it should. His hands clench into fists, his nails dig almost painfully into sweaty palms.

It is getting hot around him, and it is not just because it is spring; his blood starts to rush and he can feel every single vein being so full that he could explode any second.

He feels the familiar pressure between his legs as the memories grow neater and groans in frustration.

_Fuck._

Tooru can't help it- if he holds back it is going to hurt (as if the damage to his body wasn't enough already). His hands relax, open palms lying on his chest for a moment before slowly sliding down. He throws his head back, bends and spreads his legs slowly, making the bulge in his pants even more visible and the friction that comes along with the tightness of his clothes more perceptible.

But it is not enough.

He bites his lip angrily; he has no choice.

He intertwines his fingers with the fabric of his sweatpants and plays with it for a couple of seconds, trying one last time to get himself together, until he can't hold himself anymore and shoves his hand in, grabbing his cock in his hand and stroking it slowly a couple of times. He moans at the contact and arches his back into his own touch.

He remembers how Wakatoshi touched him after pushing him on those mattresses, the way his hand wrapped itself around him and held him in a firm grip, making him see stars.

Patience becomes less and less with every movement of his fingers and soon enough he's moving his hand at a frantic pace. He brushes the slit with his thumb occasionally, which ends up sending a shiver down his spine every single time, making it feel _so damn good._

He is moaning louder than he is usually comfortable with when he jerks off, but this time it is just too much.

He remembers being pressed down against that pommel horse and remembers when Wakatoshi entered him so hard all the air was kicked away from his lungs and how he fucked him roughly until he turned into nothing but a screaming mess.

His grip on his cock tightens when he feels warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach, which makes him lose all control of his hips and makes him start thrusting against his own hand, now slick with his own pre cum, and the strength with which he bites on his lip makes him the bitterness of blood on the tip of his tongue.

And there he is, ready to reach his peak at any moment, the pace of his hand incredibly fast while the other one is gripping the pillow under his head so tightly his knuckles are pale.

“ _You feel so good...”_

"Fuck-"

Suddenly the doorbell rings and Tooru pulls his hand away from himself abruptly with a yelp, letting out a frustrated groan at the sudden lack of contact right after and as a result, his muscles shudder uncontrollably. He takes in a few deep breaths, trying desperately to calm down his arousal as he grabs a couple of tissues from the coffee table next to him and wipes his hand with it.

He then stands up, adjusts himself and tries to look as normal as possible - as if he just wasn't about to have a mind-blowing orgasm that would leave him breathless and sprawled on the couch like goo - and walks out of the living room and towards the front door.

He opens it up, curious to see who it might be so late in the afternoon during an exam session and with his parents out of town, and as soon his view is clear, everything freezes in place. His heartbeat, so fast and irregular until just half a minute ago, stops, his breath hitches in his throat and he feels his stomach dropping.

_Hajime._

Tooru tries desperately to collect himself: he licks his dry lips once and then plasters his usual shit-eating grin all over his face and tilts his head to the side. “Oh, Iwa-chan! What brings you here?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, what brings me here? We said today's movie night; you kept bugging me about watching that damn trilogy of yours for a month.”

Tooru curses mentally. He doesn't usually forget about things, especially when they are related to his Iwa-chan, but this time he completely pushed it out of his mind after everything that happened during the last couple of weeks; unconsciously, he takes a couple of steps back, but still stays at the door.

Hajime figures he must have forgotten, but doesn't budge and lets himself in, walking past his childhood friend and lowering down to take his shoes off without giving him a second glance. Tooru closes the door of the house and when he turns around, Hajime's already taking his jacket off.

Tooru forces another smile after reading <em>Aoba Johsai</em> on its back &ndash he must have been to “Sorry, Iwa-chan. It must have slipped from my mind after everything that happened since the tournament,” he finally manages to get back the ability to speak, even though it is really hard to keep his voice steady. Fortunately Hajime doesn't pay it too much attention and just shrugs. “Don't worry about it,” he mumbles before he heads to the living room, Tooru following close by.

The spiker sits on the couch, grabbing one of the biggest cushions and placing it under his head and then stretching his legs. The setter, on the other hand, walks to the kitchen with the intention of preparing a drink for both of them, but as he pulls out two glasses and the juice, for some reason, his head doesn't seem to cooperate with him, and makes his hands start to shake.

He barely manages to fill the first glass, but when he is about to pour the content into the second one, the bottle slips from his fingers and ends up overthrowing everything on the counter.

“Shit!”

“What are you doing?” he hears Hajime asking from the other room and he curses again. In no time, Hajime is up and behind him, an irritated frown on his face as soon as he sees the mess Tooru has made. He lets out a heavy sigh and then reaches him, taking a hold of a sponge cloth Tooru's mother holds next to the sink and dries it up.

Tooru turns around, ready to grab it and do it himself, but Hajime pushes his hands away with his free one. “Let me.”

Tooru lets him.

He takes a step back, leaning on the kitchen table and watching as Hajime cleans up another one of his messes. It _really_ has always been the same, ever since they were kids. Hajime has always fixed everything he did wrong, from the simplest things like this one, to the days when he almost ended up breaking his leg from overworking himself.

“ _He is too weak.”_

Wakatoshi's words resound like an echo in his head and it angers him to no end. If he only knew what Hajime is like outside the court, he wouldn't be saying that; he would probably change his mind and want him instead of Tooru. He is the one who always screws up after all.

But then...

“ _He will never be enough to beat me.”_

It pains him to no end when he realizes he's actually considering those words. They never beat him. After six, endless years of trying and trying and _failing_. Tooru has never even caught a glimpse of the national tournament if not on the TV, but even then, it didn't last long because it always pissed him off and he ended up turning everything off and retreating to his room to sulk.

He wonders what it is like to be there.

“Oikawa.”

“Huh?”

Hazel eyes widen when they spot Hajime in front of him, face a few inches away from his own and a confused, perhaps a bit worried look plastered on it.

“I said I finished cleaning up.”

Tooru blinks a couple of times and then realizes the counter in front of him is clean, as if the accident with the juice never happened. Both glasses are full and Hajime's holding them in front of him. “Oh. Thanks, Iwa-chan,” he smiles at him and something feels off.

Hajime would lie if he said he doesn't notice it, but he lets it go this time. Tooru must be tired, or still sulking for losing to Karasuno. It is normal – he has always been like that (even though the object of his childish tantrums has always been Shiratorizawa). At least he isn't at the gym spending time by killing himself with practice.

“Let's get back to the couch.”

“Yeah.”

Hajime walks in front of him and Tooru follows him. He finds that Hajime has already prepared everything: pillows, blankets and now even the drinks; and the only thing left is for them to get comfortable and press _play_ on the remote control.

Tooru sits down slowly and then raises his legs up as well, pulling the blanket up to his waist and Hajime does the same on the opposite side of the couch. There isn't much space left between them and Tooru is able to feel his warmth even if they are barely touching.

The movie starts and it doesn't take long for Hajime to get into it, eyes fixed on the screen even though it is not exactly his favorite genre, but it isn't even the usual alien crap Tooru always forces him to watch so it is okay.

On the other hand, even though he picked it, Tooru can't concentrate and enjoy it at all. Sure, he is watching, but he sees nothing, too many images flashing in front of his eyes and the sting in his chest only getting heavier and heavier. His thoughts are focused on Hajime, and then they move to his team. To his beloved team he counts, _counted so much on._

“ _They do not have what it takes...”_

It is a lie. They have always done everything they could for him. They always guaranteed him their full strength.

“ _But were they ever enough?”_

The words ring in his ears as if he were listening to them at this precise moment and he can't bear it anymore. He closes his eyes, making sure his body stays still so Hajime doesn't see and bites his lip.

_No, they were never enough._

_They most likely never will._

Even if there is the most sincere of truths in this, and even though he has always known it deep inside, Tooru still feels as if he just betrayed everything he believed in for all these years. He has always been so sure of his goals, and it only took a couple of sentences for Wakatoshi to wreck it in pieces and create a nest of doubts that contaminates everything.

His touch returns inside his head again.

And he can't bring himself to think those words were lies.

_Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn't lie._

There are only a few things he is sure about at the moment, and that is one of them. He opens his eyes and sees Hajime in the same position of before and spots another one. _Hajime's loyalty._ That will never be faked, no matter the situation; Hajime has proven him that countless times and Tooru isn't capable of bringing himself to doubt it.

They are friends, _best friends_ , yeah. And even though people usually put a limit on the title, there is so much more between them that crossed them infinite times, something that has no name; or at least they never bothered to give it one.

Tooru remembers when they were kids and the way Hajime used to protect him from anything; he let him sleep in his bed when he found himself waking up in the middle of the night because of scary nightmares. They went to school together, always picked the same one, and Hajime made sure to let him know he never regretted it.

He remembers when they kissed for the first time.

Kitagawa Daiichi had just lost to Shiratorizawa when they were in their second year of middle school. Tooru had been crushed about it more than ever, because it was the first time he had played as the main setter of the team and lost. Needless to say, he cried since they left the gym and Hajime decided to sleep at his place to keep an eye on him, worried of what he could have done if left alone. They slept on the setter's futon that night, but still, Tooru wasn't giving any signs of calming down and Hajime didn't know what to do other than holding him as close as possible. When his sobbing became worse, Hajime shifted and pressed his lips against his in a gentle kiss and everything stopped.

When he pulled away, even though it was dark inside the room, he saw wide hazel eyes staring up at him in shock. They said no words after that, but it was fine.

Tooru slept.

The first time they had sex was after the practice match where Tooru got substituted. He was frustrated for weeks, turned hostile and grumpy towards everyone, so unlikely for him - everyone noticed; and he even managed to hurt himself for the first time. That night he almost punched Tobio and after Hajime scolded him to put some sense back into him, Tooru seemed to return to his normal self. He took him home and it happened.

Tooru remembers every single detail of it and it was one of the best nights of his life. The morning after was even better; he couldn't hold himself back from mocking the spiker when he sat up and yelped at the pain in his rear. _“Looks like Iwa-chan's butt hurts, huh?”_ he had said and had never been happier of a jab in the ribs.

And it happened again and again, _and again._

They told each other it was okay. But whenever Tooru got himself a girlfriend and attempted to maintain the relationship, they would stop. Tooru's relationships, however, almost never lasted long enough for him to sleep with the girl; they usually broke up with him after three weeks (sometimes a month), once they understood he would never neglect his role as a setter and captain to go on dates with them.

So the cycle continued and they became exclusive.

But never together.

Never more than friends.

Not because they refused to date. They just never bothered themselves to talk about it and put a name on what they are and Tooru never had the guts to bring it up.

And now he doesn't know what to do.

He let Wakatoshi force his way in.

He screwed up. He definitely screwed up.

Just _what_ is he going to do now?

“Oikawa?”

Tooru finds himself suddenly being shaken roughly and his eyes snap open; he didn't even realize he closed them again. Hajime is observing him with a confused look.

“What is it, Iwa-chan?”

“I called you three times and you didn't repluu!” Hajime is scolding him, but Tooru can tell he doesn't mean anything mean with his words; he is used to the small undertone that screams _worry_ underneath the harsh tone he usually gets. “Is that brain of yours by any chance damaged, Trashykawa?”

Tooru thanks God for the perfect chance to get himself back. He pouts and crosses his arms, instinctively pulling his legs up to his chest. “That would be yours, Iwa-chan. Oh wait, you don't even have one.”

“What? You little-”

Tooru ends up with a stinging ache in his ribs after a jab that was quite painful; but felt right, because it's a sign that everything is fine between them. But how long will it last?

Hajime pulls back, but still looks at him waiting for an answer, and Tooru runs a hand through his messy hair before he takes in a deep breath. “I was just thinking, Iwa-chan.”

“About what?”

Tooru feels the too familiar lump in his throat and he suddenly feels like throwing up. He is supposed to make a decision and if he doesn't choose the correct one, he could end up ruining everything he worked so hard to build for years.

“Stuff.”

Hajime can't help but feel worried about that answer, because it comes naturally to worry when Tooru is so vague with his words. And he realizes this talk can't wait anymore; because it's the third time he has caught him spacing out.

He grabs the remote control from the coffee table and turns off the television - like hell he is going to be able to focus on the movie knowing the number one problem he is having right now is next to him, _in silence_ , and thinking about God knows what. He can't let that keep on going.

When the screen turns black, Tooru flinches. “Why did you do that?”; He was just starting to focus on the movie, hoping it would help him avoid the conversation that is about to take place. His eyes meet Hajime's, which are already placed on his face and even though Hajime knows nothing about it, Tooru feels judged.

He feels his blood pressure lowering, making him weak, weaker than he's ever felt.

Hajime just stares.

“Goddammit, Iwa-chan! Why are you looking at me like this?!”

He breaks.

“And only then he realizes just how loud he yelled at him, when Hajime's wide eyes are the first thing he really _sees_. Hajime doesn't reply to that question too soon. He shifts his body, changing position and moving so he is closer to Tooru. He observes his body, clutched in a small angle of the couch and it looks too much like a defensive position. Tooru's expression too, a pained grimace with glossy eyes and a fearful look.

“There's something on your mind and I can see it, Oikawa. I would be an idiot if I _didn't_ actually,” he speaks in a calm tone, something Tooru isn't used to, since it happens on rare occasions. And it always makes him know it is serious.

He remembers Wakatoshi once again, inside of their storage room, and himself lying flat on his back as hot calloused fingers explored him, making him feel _so. Damn. Good._

He closes his eyes tightly, resting his arms on his knees and burying his face in them. He has never felt such shame upon himself and he just isn't able to stand Hajime's gaze. His nails dig into his palms when he clenches his hands into fists. _He can't handle this._

“Talk to me, Oikawa,” Hajime begins, because he sees it. Tooru is struggling with something and it really doesn't seem like a situation to just brush off like most of his drama shit, when Hajime just wants to kick him as hard as his body allows him.

This is different, unknown.

“Even if it's stupid, just tell me.”

“You'll get mad.”

Hajime blinks.

How can he even think that in a moment like this?

He lays his hand on the top of his head, burying in the soft brown locks of his hair, and caresses him gently, expression soft but invisible to Tooru who is still refusing to look at him.

“I won't get mad. I promise.”

Tooru knows he is telling the truth right now. If he really knew though, he would take his words back and never look at him again and on the other hand, if he doesn't talk right now, it will probably be all over anyway, their friendship that is.

He feels Hajime's warmth surrounding him when the spiker wraps his arms around his body and just waits. If it weren't for the heavy angst he's feeling, Tooru wouldn't want this feeling to ever end, but-

“ _You'll get mad._ ”

“Try me.”

“I'm thinking about moving to Tokyo after we graduate.”

The tearing pain he feels in his chest when he feels Hajime's body stiffen against him makes him want to scream, but his strength to do it is nowhere to be found. Hajime's stiffness doesn't last long though, he relaxes soon enough for his hug to return as comfortable as it has always been.

Because he thinks he understands.

“You're talking about college, huh?”

Tooru had mentioned his will to go to Tokyo a couple of times during their last year. He talked about the strong volleyball team of the university and how it could lead him to the best of opportunities in the future. His grip on him instinctively tightens. “So you _do_ plan on continuing to play.”

Tooru finally pulls away and looks up.

He meets Hajime's eyes finally, _finally._

“Yeah... Why else would I go there?” his tone is slightly high-pitched and he prays Hajime will believe that this is the only reason; because it is, even if there's slightly more to it to hold it up. Or so Tooru tells himself.

Hajime pulls away from him and returns to his place, sitting properly this time, as if trying to digest the words, while Tooru continues, “I want to keep playing volleyball and that team is one of the best ones around and I _want_ to become a part of it.” He then looks at Hajime intensely, observes as he lowers his head, waiting for him to reply.

Because he is waiting for an _I'll be there_ or _I'm coming with you._

None of them comes.

Hajime only nods slightly and his eyes find sudden interest in his hands as the quietest of silences dawns upon them bringing fear with it.

“What about you, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks with wide eyes. “You never mentioned anything about it.”

“I haven't made a decision yet.”

Tooru's heart stops.

_Oh._

For the first time in his life, the possibility of not having Hajime, _his Iwa-chan_ , next to him hits him. Tooru has never taken a bullet in the back, but he supposes it feels just like this. “I understand.

Hajime has been a part of his life ever since he can remember. They have spent together almost every day; the longest they ever were apart was during the two summer weeks between their first and second year of middle school, when Tooru's parents brought him with them to a trip in Korea. The first few days were fine, but then Tooru started crying about how he wanted his Iwa-chan there with him and didn't stop until they were back home.”

And now they could end up taking different roads and be apart for a much more extended period of time. Tooru is not ready for that; he's never been away from him and learned to see him as his anchor. Because Hajime has always protected him and made sure he was always fine.

He can't possibly think about having to deal with the world on his own.

He remembers when his parents gave him his first volleyball; the first thing he did after laying his hands on it was to run to Hajime's house to show it to him. He kept smiling for the whole day.

Convincing Hajime to play volleyball wasn't a hard task. They were playing in the garden and Tooru was insisting for Hajime to just try spiking once because _“You'll see, Iwa-chan! It's fun!”_ Hajime accepted with a sigh, mostly for him to stop whining.

And it was love at first spike.

They joined their elementary school team. And then did the same in middle school the high school.

_Always together._

So what if this stops from next year on?

What if Hajime decides to quit volleyball while Tooru keeps playing? Tooru doesn't want to think about it, because Hajime is just too good to quit. He has made so much progress during the last couples of years and Tooru can't be anything but glad for it.

After they lost and Hajime came to him to comfort him, Tooru felt the truth in his voice, but there was also hesitance. He never said again that they will get Wakatoshi back, not once; even though he always has until then.

Tooru's mind gets occupied with an even more frightening option, that he hopes will only ever be a meaningless thought of his twisted mind and never to become reality.

If Hajime does choose to go to another university which isn't in Tokyo, and also decides to join a volleyball team... Would that mean they'd end up playing against each other at some point? Wakatoshi and him against Hajime-

Tooru's breath hitches and panic starts to build in his chest.

A match _against_ Hajime-

 _No_ , he thinks. _Just no._

It is not going to happen.

It can't happen.

There is no way he will ever be able to pull it off...

He shakes his head to send these thoughts away, cursing mentally at his creative imagination. His eyes focus back on Hajime, who has finally found the remote control again and is plainly staring at it as if deep in thought.

“So that's why you've been acting weird before,” he begins with a small smile.

Tooru still doesn't breathe.

Something is _not_ right.

“You could have talked to me if it bothered you. You know you can count on me.”

Even though he is dying to reply with a sarcastic comment on the soft way the sentence came out of his mouth, Tooru refrains himself from doing so; because he can't afford it. He feels like he is standing over a bottomless cliff and the only thing separating him from falling into it is a thin layer of ice that could shatter with one wrong step.

And it is already cracked.

“I'm sorry.”

Hajime shakes his head, the small smile turning into a reassuring one when he glances at Tooru. “Don't apologize... You did nothing wrong.”

Tooru's eyes widen and for a moment all he sees is black.

Nothing wrong... _Nothing_ wrong.

If there has ever existed a worst timing for something to be said, Tooru wants it to happen and wants it elsewhere, far away from them.

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

There's no way of going back to fix it.

His body grows limp against the couch as he slides down and lowers his head and luckily enough, Hajime doesn't notice him because he's too focused on turning the TV back on and letting the movie run again. Tooru feels him shifting on the couch to put himself in a more comfortable position and the pain and guilt in his chest get ten times stronger when he finally starts to move towards him.

He needs this.

Hajime gives him a questioning look when he sees him close, but Tooru's look is enough to make him understand.

He turns around and raises his legs back on the couch while he grabs one of the softest cushions behind his back and puts it on his lap for Tooru to lie on it.

The setter does just that, lowering down slowly, almost hesitantly, but in the end he is comfortable against him. He feels Hajime's hands reaching for the previously discarded blanket to pull it back up and over them, especially careful when adjusting it over Tooru's body. Then his hand is on Tooru's head, gently caressing him and playing with his hair. It's always been something that calmed him down when he had moments like this, Hajime thinks, so he keeps it up without stopping.

He feels Tooru sigh against the pillow before his neck twists and he turns his head on his side to finally watch the movie he picked weeks ago on his own. Hajime's eyes linger on him for a long time before they move away to the movie without going back there again.

They only separate from each other when Hajime stands up and changes DVDs and it happens twice. And every time he returns to the couch, he sinks a bit lower and gradually, Tooru ends up from his lap higher until his head is on his chest, right under his neck and Hajime can feel the soft locks tickling his skin whenever Tooru moves.

He doesn't let him go though. His arms are firmly wrapped around his body under the blanket.

And Tooru can't feel anything else but warmth; a comfortable warmth that crawls under his skin and leaves a pleasing sensation down his spine, and he doesn't want anything else other than staying with it, in it, forever. It is the way Hajime makes him feel every time he is with him.

Hazel eyes look up and Hajime instinctively tightens his embrace, pulling the setter's body more into his even though he doesn't look back at him.

Tooru can't help but smile at that.

When the last movie ends, Hajime turns off the TV and silence dawns on them once again, but it is not tense, nor it lasts as long as it did before. Tooru breaks it only a couple of minutes later, when he realizes he doesn't want him to leave. Whatever they are, whatever will happen in the future, wherever they go... He wants this now.

“Iwa-chan?”

He watches as Hajime's eyes finally meet his and a smile appears on his face, a truly gentle, sincere one. “What is it?”

“Let's go to my room.”

Hajime doesn't need to reply to that. He just sits up straight and Tooru goes along. They stand up and walk to the stairs. Hajime follows in silence and when they are in front of his room, Tooru tells him to go in while he goes to the bathroom for a second.

Hajime closes the door behind. It is not the first time this is happening and the way Tooru told him that, leaves him free of any kind of embarrassment because he knows it will happen. He knew it would ever since Tooru asked him to come to his place weeks ago.

His eyes move around his room; the same place as always.

His eyes lower down on his desk and widen slightly when he notices a small piece of paper on it, right in front of his computer and with Tooru's mobile phone right next to it. He lowers down, sitting on the cushion and focusing. When close to it, his eyes spot a phone number he doesn't recognize.

He sits there, staring at it for a long moment, until the door of the room opens and Tooru comes in cheerfully. “Here I am, Iwa-”

He freezes. Hazel eyes go wide when Hajime turns around, the piece of paper now in his hand.

“Is this from one of your fangirls'?” he asks curiously.

For some reason, Tooru doesn't react like he usually does at the question: he doesn't brag and act all smug, and instead blushes heavily and reaches Hajime, lowering to take it away from his hand. “No! No, it's nobody's. Really,” is the frantic response coming from him before he turns around and walks to his closet, hiding it between his clothes. His eyes spot the Shiratorizawa jacket, hanging next to his school's one and he shuts it immediately.

He turns around, back against the closet door, face flushed and all the sense of guilt from before right on his heart.

He watches as Hajime stands up slowly.

When he starts walking towards him, Tooru's body stiffens.

“What's wrong, Oikawa?”

It comes unexpected and it is just like he had predicted; Tooru doesn't want it to. Because it's not something he can tell him without hurting them both.

Because everything is wrong.

He did something wrong.

And he is going to pay the price for it, sooner or later.

Sooner or _later._

They have all the time in the world to get into a fight and Tooru has no strength at all to withhold it now.

So he just smiles - and it is the most painful smile he's ever made, because he is aware of how fake and hurtful it is for him and for Hajime - and pretends he didn't have sex with Wakatoshi.

He pretends he didn't like the way he was kissed. He pretends he doesn't have his jacket in his closet, which he is keeping because Wakatoshi told him he _wants_ him to keep it. He pretends that phone number isn't his.

He pretends he never thought about calling him during the last week.

“Nothing's wrong, Iwa-chan. Why would it be?”

He finally walks to Hajime, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his chest against his.

“Oikawa-”

“Kiss me, Iwa-chan.” The words are a mere whisper, spoken when Tooru gets closer and their lips are only a breath away from each other.

Hajime looks at him, the small height difference seems almost invisible right now, and the way Tooru is in front of him, cheeks of a light pink color, eyes half-lidded. He doesn't care about what's in that damn closet right now. He doesn't want to know, even if it is a dead body.

It doesn't matter.

He kisses him.

He feels Tooru's hands slowly moving moving from behind his neck to his shoulder, sliding up across his jaw and into his spiky dark hair as he kisses him back. It starts off hurriedly, but Tooru regains control over all his desires and ends up slowing the pace.

Hajime hums when Tooru's tongue enters his mouth and places his hand on his hip, gently pulling him even closer while the other one slides up his shirt, feeling the hardened muscles of his stomach.

They pull away to breathe after a while. “Get on the futon, Iwa-chan.”

And Hajime finds himself obeying; he pulls away from Tooru only to get down to sit on the soft mattress of Tooru's bed. He doesn't even have the time to get himself comfortable, because Tooru is already over him, sitting in his lap and grinding hard against him. His mouth moves to explore very part of Hajime's exposed skin until he stops at his earlobe, nibbling and sucking gently on it, making Hajime let out a shaky breath at the feeling.

His hands grasp harder on Tooru's hips, pulling him down at an angle that makes them both hiss when their crotches touch. Tooru's already hard, Hajime notices, and at this rate it won't take long for him to get like this as well.

He decides not to lose any time: he grabs the fabric of Tooru's shirt and starts pulling it up and when Tooru breaks away to slide it off his head and arms, he removes it and throws it on the floor next to him before pulling him back against himself and biting his neck.

Tooru keens high in his throat, back arching at the pleasuring painful feeling, which becomes even more intense when Hajime starts sucking on the spot, hard enough to leave a mark before he pulls away and looks up at Tooru.

“Your shirt, Iwa-chan...”

Hajime gets it and proceeds to take it off as well, discarding it then on top of Tooru's. He is about to turn back around, but Tooru pushes him down.

He looks up, the view of Tooru's half naked body makeing it even harder to breathe. He watches as he moves his hips over him in slow, sensual movements, making Hajime unable to keep his gasps in his mouth.

He is about to sit back up, but Tooru pushes against him, making sure to keep him in place, holding his back flush against the mattress.

Tooru lowers down so he is lying on Hajime's chest but still keeps moving his hips. His lips find Hajime's shoulder, placing soft kisses and gentle nibbles here and there, before he moves on his collarbone and it is then that he bites hard enough for Hajime to yelp. His hands instinctively grab Tooru's hips.

Tooru smirks at his reaction and moves back to his face, parting the spiker's lips with his tongue before kissing him again, more passionately now.

The room is getting hotter and the need to get the rest of their clothes off is even bigger. Hajime's hands move down over Tooru's thighs, gripping at the fabric of his sweatpants along the way.

“My, my... So impatient,” comes Tooru's teasing comment as he sits back up again and Hajime tries to follow him one last time, but is denied. “Let me take care of you, Iwa-chan.”

“But-”

“Just relax.”

Hajime loses all his will to complain when Tooru gives another roll of his hips against him.

When he is sure Hajime is relaxed, Tooru lowers over his chest, mouth running all over his skin as his hand slides down into his pants to palm his erection. Hajime groans at the contact, hips jolting to meet his touch but when he regains some of his sense, he uses it to control himself when Tooru adds more pressure.

Tooru works his way on his chest, tongue running over a hard nipple a couple of times before he takes it in his mouth and sucks on it. Hajime lets out a grunt, but doesn't complain.

When he has enough, he slides over Hajime's legs so he is facing his crotch. He glances one last moment at Hajime, who is now supporting himself on his elbows and observing his every move and Tooru can't resist to lick his lips slowly and showily before tugging on the waistband of his pants before pulling them down along with his briefs, revealing his already hard cock.

He grips the length with his hand, pumping on it slowly a couple of times and enjoying Hajime's whimpers. He then reaches it and places a gentle kiss on the head, tongue flickering against the slit.

O-oikawa!”

Taking it as an encouragement to continue, Tooru finally takes him in his mouth. Hajime groans at the warm feeling around him and it takes everything he has and doesn't have to prevent himself from thrusting up and fucking that hot cave until he comes.

But Tooru told him to relax and he is going to listen.

He feels his tongue moving on the under side of his length as he moves his head up and down until Hajime feels himself hitting the back of his throat. Tooru doesn't gag on it, having learned from the first time where he ended up coughing and Hajime ended up telling him he was an idiot for having taken it so rashly.

No, this time Tooru is doing great. He breathes through his nose as keeps moving, milk chocolate eyes never leaving Hajime's. He moves his hand in rhythm with his head, covering the parts his mouth doesn't and Hajime moans. Even though Tooru tries to steady him, his hips still thrust up to meet him with small thrusts as he keeps going.

“Oh, God... Oikawa-”

Tooru hums in appreciation before pulling away, some of Hajime's pre cum and his own saliva spilling out of his mouth and down his chin. He doesn't stop moving his hand though, twisting his wrist every now and then and thumbing the head of his cock whenever he wants a reaction; needless to say, he wants one quite often.

Hajime watches as he moves his mouth over his stomach, leaving light red marks on his skin with his teeth, and he isn't sure they will all go away by the next morning.

He moves his eyes on Tooru's body and realizes he's still wearing his pants, while he is completely naked. He wants more of him, wants to fuck him already because he is so hard it hurts. And Tooru's constant teasing isn't making it any better.

He loses his breath when Tooru is taking him in his mouth again, this time gradually, tongue moving over every inch of him as if trying to imprint every detail of him.

And Tooru can't deny he likes the way he feels, so hot and thick he would suck him off until he comes, but it is not a part of his plan, no matter how good it would feel to swallow it all. His own sweatpants are starting to get uncomfortably tight and he's not going to resist much longer from touching himself.

He pulls away one final time and feels Hajime sitting up and wrapping his arms around him to pull him on the same level as him and then kissing him messily. Tooru moans into the kiss, pressing his tongue against his..

When they pull away, Tooru sighs against his lips. “You taste so good, Iwa-chan.”

“Shut up and take off your pants.”

“Really impatient.”

But he complies. He pulls away from him and stands up, taking the fabric of his pants and briefs and sliding them down his legs before kicking them on his side. And then he is back on Hajime's lap, his legs on each of his sides, their cocks finally brushing together and the new friction making them both moan.

Tooru puts two of his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them languidly and swirling his tongue around them, coating them with as much of his saliva as he can, while with his other hand he pushes Hajime down, so he is lying on his back again.

“Oikawa, let me-”

Tooru pulls away from his fingers with an exaggerated pop and shakes his head. “Nope, Iwa-chan. I told you to relax.”

And then Tooru grants him the hottest of sights, as his hips rise from Hajime's slightly, and his hand disappears behind his back.

Hajime swallows everything he has in his mouth, too afraid to drool, and observes Tooru's expression, which turns from a seductive, smiling one to a suddenly gasping one when the first of his digits penetrates into his hole. His body grows tense at his own touch, and Hajime doesn't fail to notice it, especially because Tooru seems to be rushing, having his finger pushed into himself beyond his second knuckle already. He lays his hands on his hips, moving them in small circles against him and speaks, voice incredibly soft for him: “Take it easy, Oikawa.”

Tooru whines, forcing in a second finger. “But I want you - ah! - inside me- ngh!” He loses himself in his own moans, cock pulsing as he grinds more against his own hand, pushing his fingers as deep as the shape of his body allows him. His head falls back, mouth gaping open when he curls them and stretches himself even wider.

Hajime must admit he has never even imagined such a gorgeous sight existed; Tooru usually lets him do most of the work and has never bothered to prepare himself on his own, so to Hajime, despite the number of times they have done this, this is something new.

His eyes linger on Tooru's chest as it stretches back along with the movements of his hand, muscles tensing with every move of his hips. His face looks beautiful even like this, with half-lidded eyes, lips shiny and parted as he moans his name quietly.

Suddenly Hajime's hand is around his cock, stroking slowly and when Tooru looks down, he sees the way Hajime's looking at him. “Iwa-chan?”

“Don't hurt yourself.”

Tooru gives him a small smile in return. “I won't. It just feels so good...”

When he feels ready, he slowly leans over Hajime, reaching with his hand to one of the closest drawers where he holds lube and condoms and picks up the small bottle, which he immediately opens up and pours some of its content on his hand.

“Condom, Oikawa. Shouldn't you-”

“I want all of you inside.”

The spiker doesn't say anything and lets out a soft moan when Tooru grabs his length in his hand and strokes it slowly until it's slick enough. Then he gets a better hold over him and lowers down slowly, positioning him at his entrance. He takes in a deep breath and then starts taking him in.

Hajime throws his head back as a groan rips from his throat, and his hands dig into the soft flesh of Tooru's hips, trying desperately to hold himself back from moving.

Tooru lowers even more, careful to adjust on the feeling with every inch he is taking inside. They usually don't do it in this position, and Tooru finds himself wondering why: Hajime feels impossibly bigger like this and Tooru feels him reaching even deeper than normally.

He moans loudly, working himself further on his cock, until he is finally settled onto it. Then he leans back, leaning on his hands on the mattress next to Hajime's thighs, steadying himself before slowly starting to move. He feels the hard length brush against his prostate and can't help himself from getting louder.

Hajime grunts under him, his grip on the setter tightening considerably as the muscles in his legs quiver at the jolts of pleasure Tooru's tightness makes run down his spine. He decides he won't wait anymore and starts thrusting upwards, following Tooru's rhythm and meeting him halfway and the sound Tooru makes are definitely an approval.

They keep moving like this for a while, gradually increasing speed until Tooru shifts, leaning forward and making his hands rest on his chest. He closes his eyes, moaning his lungs out at the feeling. His mind goes blank. It feels so good he can't even describe it. It always does.

Only Hajime is able to make him feel like this, warm inside and like he is the only thing that matters.

“ _Oikawa.”_

Tooru's eyes snap open.

_No._

Why is _he_ here? Why is he in the back of his mind, looking at him with those eyes.

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

He doesn't know why, but for a moment, just for a moment, he remembers the inside of that storage room. And the memory along is enough to make him grow painfully harder, his breath hitching in his throat as he stops moving.

“Oikawa?” he hears Hajime's raspy voice calling him and he shakes his head, biting his lips and forcing his body to move again. He moves harder this time and the constant brushing over his prostate makes his eyes roll back into his head as he feels himself closer to his release.

“Iwa-chan... Ah- More! I need more.”

“ _You feel so good...”_

“Please...”

Hajime's eyes widen. He wraps his arms around him, pulling him down so he's lying on his chest and kisses him messily. He spreads his legs, bends his knees and plants his feet firmly into the mattress and his hips begin to move fast to ram into Tooru from underneath.

Tooru gets louder, and it is so hard for him to keep his eyes open, but he forces himself. To make sure Hajime is the one who is with him. Hajime and _no one else._

Hajime's thrusts get even more erratic and Tooru's need to be filled increases as the familiar feeling of his upcoming orgasm starts to grow inside the lower part of his stomach and tingles around his spine.

“Iwa-chan...”

His words are a mere whisper as he moves his head in front of Hajime's and places an open mouthed kiss, taking every bit of air he has not in his lungs before he falls back to his side, dropping over Hajime's shoulder.

It takes only a couple more trusts for him to fall over the edge and he comes with a loud moan, back arching and cum spilling all over their chests. His inner muscles spasm uncontrollably and Hajime groans at the feeling as he fucks him through his orgasm. He feels Tooru growing limp against himself, his lips kissing his shoulder gently, without any strength left.

“Cum, Iwa-chan.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Hajime groans and gives one last thrust before burying himself in the tight heat of Tooru's body and comes. His cum comes out in thick spurts and Tooru can feel every single drop filling him up.

By the time it's over, they are both a panting mess, pressed against each other. Tooru eventually regains his breath and raises his hips so Hajime's out of him and lets himself fall on the mattress. He takes in deep breaths and after that, he rolls so he's lying on his side, facing Hajime.

He sees his spiker still lying flat on his back, chest raising and falling heavily and Tooru waits. He waits until Hajime's relaxed, not breathless, to reach him and lay his head on his shoulder and wrap his arm around him. Hajime does the same, sliding it underneath his body and pulling him as close as possible.

Tooru buries his face in his hot skin, exhaling heavily.

He has missed this.

Hajime shifts slightly and Tooru struggles, trying to hold him still as much as the leftover of his strength allows him.

“Let me grab some tissues.”

“Don't need them.”

“You're going to get the sheets dirty.”

“I'll wash them.”

“Your mother will wash them.”

“ _Just stay here.”_

Hajime complies hesitantly and readjusts himself against the setter's body. Tooru doesn't let him see his face, and he figures he might be tired for today, so he will let him rest.

He sighs and moves his eyes towards the ceiling; Tooru has never removed the glowing stars he put up there when he was a kid, and a part of Hajime is glad he didn't, because he likes them too - but he will never admit it out loud otherwise he will never hear the end of it.

And so he remains completely oblivious to the mess in Tooru's mind though.

Tooru doesn't want this moment to end. He doesn't want to stand up from this bed to dress up or whatever, wants to stay wrapped against him forever. Only here he feels comfortable and safe from everything waiting for him in the outside world.

“ _Oikawa.”_

If Hajime only knew how he feels.

If only he himself knew how he feels.

The possibility of their separation still doesn't seem true, doesn't seem real.

“Are you even considering coming with me to Tokyo, Iwa-chan?” Tooru's aware of the danger of his question and he is also aware of the danger of every possible answer Hajime could give him. Because lots of those possibilities begin with a _no._

But if he isn't there with him and Wakatoshi is, what is going to happen? The fact that he doesn't see his thoughts and decisions about him and a clear rejection is the thing that scares him the most.

If Hajime isn't there to control him, what is he going to do?

If Hajime isn't there for him to love more than anyone else, is he going to fall for the man he thought he hated for six years of his life?

A place, a period of time, with him by his side- He can't possibly imagine that and maybe it's some kind of sign from the universe to reassure him.

“I... I really don't know, Oikawa.”

Tooru's heart breaks. His mind is screaming at him to get on his knees and beg him until he says yes; he doesn't want Hajime to leave him, he doesn't want to be on his own. But he also doesn't have any grounds to ask him that, because apparently there's nothing more than friendship between them and he doesn't have the right to ruin Hajime's life for his own selfish desires.

So a part of him tells him to fight tooth and nail, but for a goddamn reason he can't explain another one is just telling him not to - because that part of him doesn't want him along - and it is the small piece of him that's always had _something_ for Wakatoshi, the one he managed to corrupt with the tiny bit of warmth he offered.

Tooru doesn't even dare to think about what a second taste could do to him.

“I understand, Iwa-chan,” he whispers tiredly against his skin.

Hajime glances at him.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

_No._

“Yeah...” _What a lie_ , he thinks. The biggest one he has ever told. “Yeah, just a bit tired.”

He feels Hajime's hand burying itself in his hair and even though he has had the best feelings with him until now, he feels like crying.

Hajime isn't stupid. He knows he is.

“Liar.”

Tooru gives out a shaky laugh, his hand taking a hold of the one Hajime's resting on his chest. “Don't let me go, Iwa-chan.”

“I won't.”

Tooru closes his eyes, tiredness overwhelming him and crushing all his defenses at once. But he expects it; Hajime's words have their own effect on him. He doesn't feel sincerity in them, but the heaviest insecurities he never wants to hear again.

But for tonight, and the nights after this... All the way until he finds out about what he did, he will pretend everything is alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I was kind of inspired and decided to turn this into a multi-chaptered fic. I still didn't plan it out till the end, so everything's possible.
> 
> I'm feeling weird after chapter 147 (Furudate, you broke my heart) and since I'm a huge masochist, I'm going to make my adorable characters suffer. I love the way the manga mentioned Tooru's insecurities so now I can use them without feeling to guilty about ruining a character.
> 
> So yeah, I hope you keep reading this work of mine and thanks for all the Kudos, Bookmarks and Comments in advance.


	3. 10 Numbers on a Piece of Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello?”
> 
> Tooru's eyes widen, his mouth gapes open and his heart instantly stops. He hoped until the last second that the number was supposed to be a kind of prank, but then- fuck. It's Ushijima Wakatoshi; he probably doesn't even know what a prank is.
> 
> “Oh. Shit.”
> 
> “Oikawa?”

_When he knows he is out of Wakatoshi's sight, he lets his perfectly put facade fall._

_The walk home seems to take an eternal amount of time, and every single second is occupied by the thoughts of what just happened between him and his biggest rival; the one he tried so hard to win against for six years of his life but to no avail._

_It amazes him how easily he fell for the spiker's words, his touch... His kisses were like no one else's, so warm and yet strong and dominant enough to push him on his knees and let him do whatever he pleased. His body seemed to repel every command his brain was desperately trying to give it to get away and instead submitted itself to the_ oh so pleasing _ministrations those hands kept giving him._

His head hurts all of a sudden, too overwhelmed by everything that has been happening to him ever since he lost the tournament. He feels as if everything is slipping away from his grasp and from the way it looks, there is nothing he can do about it.

 _Once he arrives home, he heads upstairs to the bathroom. He approaches the sink, turns on the cold water and just splashes his face with it until he needs to breathe. It always helps him to think clearly, as if water had the power to put in order the mess in his head for a short while - because the confusion_ always _returns eventually._

_He breathes deeply and finally raises his head to look at his reflection in the giant mirror in front of him._

_Only then does he realize how tired his face actually looks. His eyes have an unfocused look, the bags under his eyes are starting to show and he is unusually pale. He observes lower, notices the light pink marks on his exposed neck which fortunately look like they are going to disappear by the next morning._

_He was_ that _gentle..._

_And then his heart stops._

_The jacket he is wearing._

_A Shiratorizawa jacket._

No.

 

Wakatoshi _'s jacket._

 

 _His body looks so weird swaddled in it - it is not bad, he thinks... Just plain_ weird _, unfamiliar; and the comfortable warmth it is giving is making it hard for him to think._

_His mind pictures the moment Wkatoshi put it around his shoulders; the way he tried to push it off himself because he learned to hate those colors so long ago, but he eventually slid his arms in the long sleeves and in the end, when he finally had the opportunity to remove it in the locker rooms, he kept it on._

_Why did he keep it on?_

_He looks down, hoping the image in the mirror is something unreal, some sort of joke, but no: he is wearing it._

_It has a nice smell, he notices. It smells fresh, clean..._

_He exhales; he mustn't think about it. Not right now._

_He needs to shower._

_Yeah._

_He really,_ really _needs to shower._

_With the thought in his head, he gets to his bedroom, removes the purple and white cloth and throws it in his wardrobe, almost afraid somebody could see it in his possession - and if he were able to reason, he would understand it is not needed because he is going to be home alone until his parents return from their trip. But the paranoia is a hard thing to look over._

_He pulls out a light blue shirt, a black pair of sweatpants and briefs as well. Then, he returns to the bathroom, strips of the rest of his clothes and throws them in the chest of the dirty laundry. Once naked, he looks at himself again._

_His skin doesn't have the usual flawless look. The light marks on his neck and shoulders may disappear by tomorrow, but the purplish ones on his hips are going to take a couple of days for sure. As gentle as Wakatoshi might have treated him, he still held him in a vice grip when he fucked him._

_His eyes go lower on his legs, watching the now crusted cum on the inner side of his thighs. It feels quite uncomfortable now - he should have cleaned himself in the locker room earlier._

_Before his mind starts to remember other details, he shakes his head and turns towards the shower. He steps in and makes himself comfortable before turning on the water. He hisses when it comes out cold, but it only takes a couple of seconds before it turns hot, steaming._

_He sighs when his tense muscles finally relax, his back straightens and he throws his head back, hands moving to his neck and chest to clean himself slowly. He has nothing left to do for today - sure, he should be studying, but he doubts he will be able to do anything at this rate, so he can take his time._

_He proceeds to wash away all the sweat from practice and leaves his inner thighs for last. He moves his hands over the sensitive skin gently, wiping away all the stains of cum until there's none anymore._

_After half an hour he is ready to get out, but as soon as he turns off the water and turns to step out, he feels a searing pain coming from his lower back and curses loudly. It seems like_ this _is going to last for a couple of days too._

_He manages to get out in the end, grimacing at every step in the beginning, but it soon becomes kind of tolerable and his focus on it loses when he dries himself up and puts on his clothes. He rubs the towel over his head to wipe his damp hair and then cleans behind himself._

_When he straightens up for the last time, his stomach growls._

_He heads downstairs and into the kitchen with the plan to prepare himself a nice dinner, because a sandwich isn't going to cover his hunger. So he cooks some rice, miso soup and in the end decides to grill a fish as well. Nothing too complicated, but he prepares a lot of it._

_His mind is still foggy and the heavy feeling on his chest is put aside now that he is concentrating on his food. He is not a brilliant cook, he once admitted it openly because “everybody who's amazing like me must have a flaw”, but he learned to make it better. It is perfectly edible, it just isn't elaborated or complicated to prepare._

_When it is ready, he sets it on the table and tries to sit down slowly, hopeful not to feel too much pain. It doesn't really work too well, but he does make himself comfortable as much as he can._

_He can't shake the weird feeling in his chest in any way, because it's quiet. Too quiet for what he is used to. His family isn't home often, but when they are all together, they sure make quite a lot of noise when they eat. He spends all his time chatting with them to make dinner more pleasing, but now he is alone with his thoughts and he is on the verge of freaking out._

_He eats faster than he would like, making himself unable to enjoy anything of what he prepared, but he needs to finish this quickly and find something else to occupy his mind, so once his stomach is full and the table is clean again, he returns to his bedroom, closes the door behind and turns on the light. He walks over to his desk and sits on the cushion in front of his computer. He looks online for his favorite film and sets it to load while he prepares his futon._

_He adjusts his pillow and covers, wanting to be in the most comfortable of positions to ease his aching lower back, but as he's adjusting everything, his mind keeps being focused on that one spot inside his wardrobe where the jacket is lying._

_And it keeps getting more intense until he can't hold it in anymore and stands up abruptly. He walks to the closet, opens it and pulls it out. He then returns to his computer, cloth in hand, and notices the video is already loaded, so he starts it and then makes himself comfortable, laying the uniform on his lap. His eyes are glued on it, attracted to it, and his hands seem not to be able to stay away._

_So he touches it, exploring every part, every detail of it._

_Suddenly he hears a crumpling noise coming from one of the front pockets._

_He raises an eyebrow, the hand slips in and when it is pulled out, it holds a small, neatly folded piece of paper. The jacket is soon forgotten next to him while he examines it for a minute before he finally opens it. He flinches when he sees there is a number written on it._

_Even Wakatoshi must have his own fan club, being a national champion and captain of one of the strongest high school teams in the country. But then he thinks about it: something isn't right. It doesn't really look like a girl's handwriting - besides, Tooru can't even imagine a girl trying to approach someone like him to give him her number - and sure, it is written neatly, nicely, but definitely not by a girl._

_It could be a boy maybe? Probably not._

_But he thinks he has seen this number somewhere. The last part looks kind of familiar._

_Then-_

Wait.

_It finally dawns upon him._

_It is_ his _number_

_He saw him writing it and giving it to him when they were in middle school. Useless to mention, he threw it away as soon as the spiker left - it wasn't really wise to give it to him right after they beat him. Sure, Tooru was immensely happy because of the Best Setter Award, but he still lost to him._

_He remembers staring at it for a long time and, having a good memory like his is enough to recognize it from just a hint._

_It is definitely his._

_As soon as he digests the realization of what is in front of him, in his hands, anger starts to boil inside of him. Because Wakatoshi_ knew. _He knew something would happen between them and that he would be ending up taking his jacket, so that is why he put his number in there._

_The bastard had it all planned out._

_Tooru feels pathetic; Wakatoshi must think he is so predictable. He hates to admit it at this point, but he really is._

_And Wakatoshi exploited it to the fullest._

_The reaction is immediate, he stands up, walks angrily to the trash bin next to his desk and just throws that damn piece of paper away. After that, he returns to the comfortable bed he prepared himself and focuses on his movie. There is no way he's going to give him the satisfaction of a call._

_He isn't that predictable._

.

_But still..._

_Calling him to scream his lungs out at him would feel really nice. He could let out grudges he kept holding in for six years, he could vent and empty himself so he can just move on. But move where?_

_His eyes leave the screen of his computer after not even half an hour of looking but not seeing and land on that trash can._

_He shouldn't be thinking about it._

_He really shouldn't._

.

Dammit.

_He stands up and picks up the paper._

***

He doesn't know why he is holding it in his hand a week after, but his eyes seem not to be able to look away from him and keep scanning the same numerical sequence over and over.

Hajime left after lunch; he said he needed to study for Wednesday's exam, their last one, and again, he should be studying as well, but he just can't. His head feels like it is burning, especially after what happened last night with his spiker.

The latter was kind enough not to mention his behavior and Tooru has been much better at keeping his cool today. Truth to be told though, he feels like shit. Last night was just... It felt _wrong._

Even what he did with Wakatoshi was wrong, but he is keeping it away from his best friend and last night, when he was about to find out... He hates to think about it, but sex (even though both of them really needed it) felt almost like a distraction from what is hiding inside that wardrobe of his.

It bothers him.

It is not like it should be.

Tooru has always told Hajime everything because he has always been sure that, whatever the mess he makes, he would always help him clean it up and would be with him no matter how deep the shit he would get himself into. Because he is loyal to him, and that is something Tooru has grown addicted to to the point he can't even stand the idea of being without it – not even for a moment.

That is why he has been fine for all this time, even though there were so many things bothering him and rooting against him.

His number one support has always been there.

No matter what he does or tells him.

For the first time, though, he wronged in a field he can't bring in front of Hajime. The should have always been like this - always together. And now Tooru is about to break the only promise he ever cared about and he can't even talk about it to him, to the one whom he always told everything and who always listened.

Just what kind of face would Hajime make if he told him he allowed Wakatoshi to fuck him inside of Seijō's storage room, right next to the gym where they wasted blood, sweat and tears to practice and improve? How would he react if he told him how fucking _good_ it felt?

Tooru hates that it felt so good.

It should have been horrible; it should have been painful and rough and-

It shouldn't have happened.

And yet, he let it happen.

***

There has never been more than friendship between him and Hajime - nothing that had an official name different than friendship with eventual benefits. _Lots_ of eventual benefits.

Hajime let Tooru date all the girls he wanted, and there was a period when Hajime was seeing this girl, who was really cute and nice (Tooru hated her) but broke up with him after about three months later because apparently he was spending too much time looking after his best friend, rather than spending it with her.

Hajime didn't bother to promise her to change; because he told Tooru too many times that it is his job to look after him, otherwise he would probably be collapsed from overworking himself and all the stupid shit he does when his thoughts become too funny for him to handle.

Hajime comforted him when they lost against Wakatoshi and it was Tooru's job to comfort Hajime when they lost to Karasuno. It really crushed him, Tooru remembers.

For the first time he saw Hajime taking all the blame on himself because of that last spike Karasuno's number five managed to receive that lead them to victory. He had never seen him so conflicted. It reversed the roles in no time and Tooru was the one to go to his place to spend the night telling him it was going to be okay.

“ _But you wanted to go against him one last time,”_ he sobbed when Tooru held him in the tightest of embraces. _“Because of me you lost that chance.”_

***

Tooru bites his lip; there is just no position on his futon comfortable enough to put him to sleep.

He is exhausted; he didn't sleep well last night and, even though he tried to take a nap in the afternoon, he just couldn't. He event went out for a run, like he has been doing for the past five years of his life, but this week is taking longer routes, going faster and pushing his limits to the very end. He even starts to feel his knee again, but it is nothing uncomfortable to the point to be considered painful. He knows it isn't healthy, but it is something of a distraction, no matter how brief it is.

His mind being complicated as it is still manages to find the time to struggle with the thoughts of the two people he displayed his whole life around. And it always happens in the evening, when he is alone in his bed and there is nothing that can make it go away.

The need to talk about that storage room is burning him, consuming every bit of energy in his body and leaving him destroyed.

The question in his head was created spontaneously the first time he started thinking about Hajime. If they are truly just best friends and can sleep with whomever they want, _why does he feel like this?_ Why does he feel like a cheating piece of shit when there are no boundaries which could justify it?

He feels something wet against his cheek and raises his hand up to see what it is and is surprised to find tears coming out of his eyes. He blinks a couple of times and then wipes away whatever is left until his face completely dry.

He curses mentally for letting Wakatoshi do this to him.

But then, as much as he hates to admit it, he isn't to blame. He always knew that; _because it is his own fault._

It takes two people to do what they did the way they did it and Tooru was the one who made it possible.

Wakatoshi might have been persistent in the beginning - he pinned him against the wall, kissed him, touched him; slid his leg between Tooru's and pressed against his crotch until he was moaning and arching his back for more.

But he gave him a way out.

Tooru remembers it clearly.

It was himself who sealed what happened next with that kiss after he clung to him so desperately and offered himself on a silver platter for him to use as he pleased.

Wakatoshi gave him a way out and he decided not to take it.

It is his own fault.

He fell for him even after what they told each other after Aobajōsai's last match in the Spring High tournament.

***

_Most of his team is already leaving; and Tooru knows they have nothing to do here anymore now that they lost. The thought is heavy in his mind, the very word to voice it feels bitter against his tongue and angry tears are threatening to come out which he desperately tries to hold in until he's at home, in the emptiness and silence of his room._

“ _Oikawa! There are still some guys left in the locker rooms. Go and call them! The bus is about to arrive!”_

“ _Yes, coach!” he yells without thinking, pushes everything on his mind aside, and heads back. His teammates are probably crying somewhere and as their captain, it is his duty to comfort them and tell them it is going to be alright._

_Crumbling down right now is not an option. It can't be an option when Hajime is like that. Tooru doesn't remember ever seeing him crying so much after a match, the blame of that last spike he put on himself makes him look weaker than he is._

_Tooru decides he will stay with him tonight to take care of it._

_Right now he needs to find the others. The giant hall is almost empty and he stops when he sees one of the first years walking towards him._

“ _If the bus comes, can you help load the luggage? I'm going to get the guys that haven't come yet.”_

_The boy straightens up and nods, and then walks outside with a hurried step. Tooru waves his hand and tells him he is going to be right back._

_And when he turns around, everything seems to freeze in place._

_Ushijima Wakatoshi is striding his way, posture straight and expression firm and strict as always._

_Tooru glares at him, holds his head high as if that loss didn't ever taken place. He really doesn't want to speak to him right now, so he decides to walk past him and pretend he didn't notice him. He aims to do just that, lets out his breath when he is already steps away from him._

“ _A piece of advice, Oikawa.”_

_Tooru's shoulders stiffen._

Shit.

“ _Don't keep walking the side roads.”_

_Tooru stops in his tracks, muscles tense and ears ready to listen even though he doesn't want to. But Wakatoshi always makes him react like this, pisses him off until he snaps._

“ _The path you chose was_ wrong _. There was another place that would have brought out your strength more... And you didn't choose it because of that insignificant pride of yours.”_

 _Tooru swallows._ That bastard...

“ _So you're saying that if I had picked Shiratorizawa over Seijō, then everything would've been okay? Come on! There's no such a thing as a team that always has guaranteed victory,” Tooru says and means it. Everyone wins, everyone loses._

_This is how it goes. It doesn't necessarily have to be fair, but life's never been fair to anyone all the time. Even a thick head like Wakatoshi should get at least that much._

“ _Right now, at least,” Wakatoshi begins and Tooru turns around, because he can't be about to say it. “Isn't the place I'm at the strongest?”_

_Tooru's eyes widen; and then realization dawns upon him._

_Apparently not._

_He clicks with his tongue. “You're still the same. You're confident to the point where it's ridiculous.” He watches as Wakatoshi gives him a questioning look and can't help but laugh at him. “;Insignificant pride, huh? Well well, aren't you wrong...”_

_Tooru's body is now fully turned around towards the spiker and he dares a step forward. “Listen, Ushijima,” he needs to make things clear between them. “I have never once thought that I made the wrong choice.” He observes as something sparks in Wakatoshi's eyes as he longingly looks at him. “My volleyball career is far from over.”_

_He is going to go to Tokyo._

_He will meet that ace from Fukurodani and it's going to be better. He will get him back._

“ _This insignificant pride of mine..._ You better remember it.”

_There is a moment of silence between them, an uncomfortable one until Tooru gets on with it and shatters it. “If you keep only focusing on me, you'll be surpassed one day. When you least expect it.”_

“ _What to you mean?”_

_Tooru can't hold back a grimace, but it lasts for a split second. He doesn't want to say it. He really doesn't, but as long as it's able to throw Wakatoshi off his feet, it's okay. Just this once. “My kouhai... He's not smart at all; not to mention he's no match for me.”_

_He doesn't know why but he finds himself smiling._

“ _However, he's not alone now and he's really strong.” He sees Wakatoshi's glare and he has never been more glad to see him like this. “Together, even a pack of crows can kill an enormous white eagle.”_

_With that, he turns around and starts to walk away._

“ _Oikawa-”_

“ _Bye bye, Ushiwaka-chan.”_

_He doesn't add anything else; he doesn't listen when Wakatoshi tries to call out to him one more time. He is so done with it; he doesn't want to see him until they are on opposite courts next year. Words are useless against him, because their minds are on completely different levels._

_Talking to Wakatoshi would be like screaming out a language he doesn't know exists and Tooru would end up even more pissed off than he already is._

No more talking, _he decides._

***

 

His predictions didn't come true. At least Wakatoshi seemed to look at Karasuno as if they weren't total shit. They might have lost, but they still were a pain to beat.

But it is not what he wants to think about.

Right now, talking to Wakatoshi seems like the only available solution for him.

Hajime is out of question and the others are probably going to judge him until he punches them and, in the end, he won't manage to obtain the solace he is so desperately looking for. Because only the two of them know what happened and if he doesn't let it out soon enough, he is going to explode and he can't afford a panic attack right now. It wouldn't be the first time, but it is not the time nor the place for it.

Before he knows it, his hand has already retrieved the phone between the messy covers he tried to lie underneath but ended up throwing all around his futon. His finger taps the digits slowly and, may his mind be cursed, he is memorizing it, sculpting it in his mind as an indelible relic.

He is calling.

It is not like he is going to get an answer.

Wakatoshi definitely isn't going to answer.

“Hello?”

Tooru's eyes widen, his mouth gapes open and his heart instantly stops. He hoped until the last second that the number was supposed to be a kind of prank, but then- _fuck_. It's Ushijima Wakatoshi; he probably doesn't even know what a prank is.

“Shit...”

“Oikawa?”

Tooru starts to panic. What is he doing? Just how the hell did he even get to the idea of calling him and-

He pulls the phone away from his ear as if it were burning. He ends the call and his hands are shaking so much his phone ends up on the floor next to the futon and Tooru curls up in a ball and pulls all the covers around himself.

What was he thinking?

He holds his breath and counts.

And then it comes.

His phone rings and it is so _loud_ inside the silence surrounding him. He doesn't need to check who it is, because he knows who it is. He hesitates, hopes it will stop, but even after thirty seconds it's still ringing. He exhales harshly and then reaches out from the warm darkness and grabs the device, pulling it in and giving one last glance to the number he  <em>fucking already knows by heart.

He answers.

“Yeah?”

“Oikawa.”

He bites his lip and breathes shakily.

“Is everything alright?” comes the voice from the other side, as deep as ever, but not once harsh.

Tooru feels like crying. “No.”

“Did something happen?”

The tone of voice is slightly higher, but it would be almost unnoticeable if Tooru weren't as observant as he is. But there's no way he can use it against him when he's the biggest wreck right now. It wouldn't have any of the desired impact he wants on Wakatoshi on his normal days.

“No... No- It's-” Just who is he kidding with? “Yes.”

There is even more silence on the other side than in his room. Wakatoshi is giving him the time to speak and he's reluctant to take it but then where the hell is that insignificant pride of his when he's like this?

He opens his mouth after a while. “Everything's so fucked up...”

The strength to say more is disappearing.

“Why?” Wakatoshi is urging him to talk, as if he already knew it will make it better. But it can't make it better when the shit hasn't even started yet.

Tooru shuts his eyes tightly. “I shouldn't have given in...”

“To me?”

A click of his tongue. “Yeah, to you! Of course it's about you, you idiot! When have you even seen me like this in front of somebody else?!” His words come out angrily, like pure venom one would say if his voice only weren't so high pitched because of the way he is breathing.

Wakatoshi sighs. “Oikawa-”

“NO! Shut up!” he yells before he rolls over so he is lying face down with half of it buried in his pillow. “God, this sucks. I'm so pathetic it sucks.”

His body grows limp and goosebumps form on his arms and suddenly it's freezing. Why don't those covers do what they are made for properly? Maybe it is just him, he figures the moment later - though it's really easy to get mad at somebody (or something) who isn't him.

He is the only one he should be angry at. No one knows it better than him.

“First we lost because of me,” because of that stupid receive he fucking couldn't get. “Then, as soon as I managed to comfort my team at least a little, you come in front of me and tell me all the choices I made were complete shit - twice!” As he speaks, he feels his eyes burning and raises his free hand to cover them with it. _Because I'm really starting to think that what you said was true._

“And how did I react to that? I let you fuck me on that bloody pommel horse, that I cursed from the first day they brought it in our storage room and-” He blocks himself before it slips out of his mind. He didn't like it, he definitely didn't feel good from it. He would never.

_Goddammit._

It sounds embarrassing enough to be telling this to the man he did it with and wasn't supposed to. But it's too late to stop now.

“I'm actually considering coming to Tokyo with you after just a while ago I promised and swore on everything I have I wouldn't stop chasing you until I'd beat you.”

His hand moves from his face to his hair, gripping it tightly and hoping to get the last bit of dignity back to prevent himself from starting to cry again. “And the worst is yet to come,” the heartbroken tone echoes more than it should.

He can't lose his Iwa-chan, the only one he could ever trust and consider his; the one who has always been on his side, taking care of him in moments of weakness and enjoying the ones when they were on the top of the world. He has given him so much and in exchange he-

He bets Wakatoshi can't even imagine it. How the hell can he feel safe with someone who only ever thinks about victory and has always been alone when obtaining it?

Tooru admits openly he is a mess, especially in moments like these; a huge mess that constantly needs to be controlled and put together and Wakatoshi can't do that. He just can't, because there's no way he knows how, being the way he is.

Tooru only now realizes how much it can't be him, despite the existence of that part of him who wants nothing else but that. However it's still so small it almost doesn't even bother him on normal days and isn't strong enough to make the choice for him.

“Listen, Ushiwaka-chan... I'm not ready for any of this. I'm not ready for Tokyo,” _for letting go of my past_ , “I'm not ready for you,” _and everything you have to offer to me_ \- because it's so much he wouldn't be able to live without if he gets to taste it even a bit. Tooru knows himself and the greed residing in the depths of his being better than anyone else. “I think it's better for me if I never see-”

“I want to see you.”

Tooru's eyes widen.

The heart which seemed so dead until now starts to beat harder, ramming against the inner side of his rib cage, making it hurt like hell. _Please, don't do this to me,_ is everything his mind is able to scream.

“N-no... You don't understand! I don't want to-

“I want to see you, _Oikawa._ ”

Tooru breaks down once again, before he even managed to build back his own foundations. He understands how fragile they are when he is alone and in front of someone like Wakatoshi, and when it takes a few words to turn them to ashes and then to nothingness. It is his own insecurity that is making him like this. His pride, his skills, they're all put down when facing the giant monster that's been devouring him for years.

Hajime should have been enough to put it down, but when he found out he wasn't the strongest pillar he could possibly lean on, it started to grow again, pushing him towards his limits despite his struggles to keep himself on his feet.

He has never been so miserable and it is funny, thinking how much he would like to be on court, losing to Wakatoshi all over again rather than showing his open wounds to him and offering him his feelings to take and play with as he pleases. He should be yelling at him, telling him to stop it because he doesn't want to.

And yet.

“My finals end on Wednesday. Let's meet on Thursday at 18.00 at the caf&egrave near Kitagawa Daiichi.”

What is he doing?

He swears he can feel the screaming getting louder, but he doesn't react to it, eyes moving to the ceiling and stopping there. He feels his eyelids turning heavy as a burden he never knew he owned seems to let go of him.

“I'll see you then.”

Tooru lets out a shaky breath. It seems like his perceptions are damaged, because deep down he's more than aware that he's making it worse, so much worse. “O-okay.”

There is silence on the other end of the line for a long while and Tooru thinks, just for a moment, that Wakatoshi hung up on him and his hand is about to slip back down on his pillow, when he is stopped.

“Oikawa?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you don't need this conversation _right now_?”

“What?”

“I can be at your place in half an hour if you-”

“NO!”His eyes widen, breathing turning uneven after he sits up abruptly and clutches the sheets he is covered with for dear life. He swallows hard . he didn't even realize his mouth was so full until he almost choked on his own saliva. “No... Thursday's fine.”

Because if he comes right now, Tooru isn't sure he will be able to maintain his composure like he should. For all he knows, it would end up exactly like one week ago. And he can't make that mistake ever again.

“Thursday it is then.”

Tooru nods, even though he knows the spiker can't see him.

“Good.”

He bites his lip harshly, closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Oikawa.”

It is him who ends the call first. He really doesn't want to wait for Wakatoshi to do it and risk blabbing out something to humiliate himself even more. He probably sounded ridiculous enough by now, so he guesses it is enough.

He is glad it is Sunday tomorrow; maybe, assuming he manages to fall asleep, he will feel better if he sleeps in and then studies the whole day. He needs a good final score and then he will be free, able to concentrate on volleyball again.

Volleyball.

His final choice.

He shakes his head and turns his phone off . he doesn't want to be bothered by anyone; he needs this time for himself, to rest and to _think._ He will need to talk to Hajime about it, and he needs to start picking his words carefully. Very carefully. Only knowing this is making is making his head hurts, so he decides to leave it for later.

Until Hajime stops feeling like shit because of their loss.

He knows him too well to know he is still blaming himself as much as Tooru is for that missed receive.

Too bad he doesn't have a wish to be granted no matter how impossible it were; he would choose to get back to that day to redo it all over and then leave with his team, without coming back to check on the others and sending someone else instead.

That way, the talk with Wakatoshi wouldn't have happened - or it would have been different. And maybe everything would be better right now.

He finds a comfortable position at last, hugging his pillow and burying his face in it after he pulls the blanket over himself, and it finally seems to be warm again.

“ _Goodnight, Oikawa.”_

He clicks with his tongue.

_Damn him._

He closes his eyes with those words echoing in his head.

.

He doesn't wake up for the rest of the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May Furudate be blessed for the wonderful chapter 148. 
> 
> Iwa-chan's crying was traumatic for me, but the meeting between Oikawa and Ushiwaka made me scream like the craziest of fangirls. I'm really glad I can use this material as well now as one of the flashbacks. It's a relief to know that not everything I'm writing here is too OC or anything.
> 
> I'm sorry for making Oikawa so miserable in this one, but I know that the sense of guilt can be a shit to bear when there's no one to help you out. And he fucked up badly.
> 
> ...
> 
> Thank you for the lovely comments, Kudos and Bookmarks. It means so much to me!


	4. I Can See The Storm Clouds Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't get mad at me, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles, hazel eyes staring at his own trembling hands. “Promise you won't get mad at me, Iwa-chan.”
> 
> Hajime hesitates.
> 
> Tooru doesn't start until he gives him a small nod.
> 
> “Keep talking.”

 

Wednesday's school hours end sooner than expected but then, Hajime actually _does_ expect it – hopes for it perhaps. He has been studying like a madman for the last three days and everything he needed to do today was to get into his classroom, take the exam and then be free until graduation.

And he does just that.

.

The teacher is nice enough to let them go home to rest and since the class manages to finish all their tasks by midday, Hajime decides to stop by the gym to say hi to his former teammates and to confirm his presence at the dinner meeting they planned after the Spring tournament ended.

They decide the date, the time and the place and then talk about other things. When Hajime is planning to leave, more or less an hour later, the others convince him to stay longer (it doesn't actually take much); Shigeru lends him some of his clothes and makes him play a couple of sets with them, offering himself to take Tooru's place as his setter.

Hajime's memory of that last failed toss is still fresh in his mind, even though he desperately tried to bury it between literature and maths – he never believed it would succeed, he still doesn't, but it was worth a try. Now that he doesn't need any of those subjects anymore, it seems to be surfacing again. The others notice it and make him avoid to think about it when they think it is too close to affect him.

The match is not what it is supposed to be though, because Tooru didn't come with him and instead excused himself by saying he should be heading home as soon as possible because there are a couple of things he wants to do. Then he asked if he could join him later and promised to cook him dinner if he stayed over.

Hajime accepted without thinking twice.

He ends up staying in the gym until the others have to leave for their afternoon classes and there is nothing else to do than leave as well. He chooses not to take a shower here and instead decides to take it at Tooru's. There he can also borrow some clean clothes so he doesn't have to change back into his uniform – he has really gotten sick of it now that it's starting to be hotter outside.

When he gets out of the gym and then of the school gates, he gets an idea. It would sure be nice if he went to the market to do some shopping so they can prepare something else than the usual rice and miso soup – he remembers his mother giving him plenty of money just for that. _“You and Tooru-kun need to celebrate! You've had two rough weeks, so take these and at least cook something decent,”_ she said to him with a wink when she shoved the bills in his hands before he could say anything in return.

The do need to celebrate after all.

So he stands with his idea, goes into the nearest store and buys lots of vegetables, mackerel and everything they need to prepare some homemade ramen – he thinks for a moment to get the instant one, but he figures that it is supposed to be for when they have little time; they have plenty of it now, so they can even have some fun in the kitchen this once.

He then grabs some juice and snacks – lots of milk bread for Tooru; he will sure want to eat that when they watch movies before going to sleep - before he heads to pay for the goods; he ends up getting out with two full bags of food.

Once on the street, he walks slowly. He finished earlier everything he needed to do; besides, he doesn't want to take the risk to break the bags – maybe he should have gotten three; two seem too fragile for all that stuff. Well, now it's too late anyway and all he can do is be careful with how he moves.

The weather is nice, but there is a bothering humidity in the air, making his nostrils feel weird when he breathes. He didn't check the news, so he doesn't know if it is supposed to rain or what, but he still hopes it gets dry by tomorrow.

The route through the park seems the best choice – it might be a tad of a longer walk, but there are less people who could get in his way. It is only when he gets past the small pond next to the playground where he and Tooru always used to play at when they were kids that he finds himself regretting his choice.

When he turns the corner, he looks in front of himself and when he sees _him_ standing on the exact spot where he remembers meeting Tooru for the first time, his eyes widen. Never would he expect to find Ushijima Wakatoshi here – especially because he lives in the peripheral side of the city from what he knows, which is at least forty-five minutes away from here.

His school is elsewhere too, so he is not returning from his lessons or training either.

Hajime doesn't think he wants to know – it would make him upset and then he would tell it to Tooru and then they would both end up sulking on the couch, which is not a way he wants to spend the night – Tooru is especially annoying when he's sulking, and gets even more childish than he already is.

His only goal, he figures, is to get to Tooru's house without having his mood ruined in the mean time, so he will just ignore him, walk past him and forget about seeing him. He has too many plans for tonight and one person he really doesn't like isn't allowed to ruin them.

He does just that, passes next to him with just a mere couple of centimeters between their shoulders, careful not to touch him. He is just an obstacle he must surpass. And all he needs this time is the functionality of his legs for walking and nothing else.

It isn't a game, a spiking contest – it is just the strength to keep himself from turning back towards him and lose.

Hajime feels relieved when he is behind him; it is finally over and hopefully he will never see him again.

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

_Shit._

Hajime hears the deep familiar voice calling his name; the pace of his steps slows down slowly until it comes to a stop. The muscles of his back and upper thighs are tense under those gold eyes that have always been looking down on him and he doesn't know what to do other than turning around at looking back at him hoping not to be looking as shaky as he's feeling.

He is surprised to notice he isn't really as far from him as he thought he got. It feels weird, especially because this time it's just him and Wakatoshi and no Tooru to keep his mind from wandering off like this.

At first Hajime is doubting what he sees, but when after half a minute Wakatoshi's eyes don't resume that severe gaze they usually have, he loses himself and doesn't know what to think.

“It was not the same, playing the finals without Seijō as our opponent,” he begins and Hajime's eyes widen again. _Whst?_ He isn't sure he heard right and there is a moment when he believes Wakatoshi is joking, but then– he is always serious.

The loss against Karasuno flashes briefly before his eyes and he instinctively lowers his head. “Things don't always go as planned I guess.” He is incredulous at the quietness of his voice and the sudden weakness overwhelming his body.

Wakatoshi stares at him, observing every detail of his face and then his eyes travel down his body, from his neck to his feet – the stiffness of his muscles is impossible to hide from him; he and Tooru are quite similar when it comes to this, he figures.

Also, what he just said... _Things don't always go as planned,_ huh?

If he were another type of person, he would find it funny. Until now, everything he wanted he managed to get in the end: the strength, the captain title, assured victories, _Tooru_...

Tooru.

He still isn't his though.

And it is because of the man in front of him.

_Iwaizumi Hajime._

Wakatoshi, no matter how stronger he is than him, deep inside, has always envied him for being the chosen one to be by Tooru's side. Despite all the times he tried to make him come with him, offering him his strength and power and the victory he always cried for so much - stil is -, the setter has always chose him instead.

Wakatoshi knows.

It could never be both after all.

There has never been any place for Hajime at Shiratorizawa and, with Wakatoshi there as the ace of the team, the only spot he could have gotten eventually would have been on the benches or on the bleachers to cheer.

Wakatoshi – and most likely Tooru too – has always known he wouldn't be enough to beat him in a match, ever (especially not with a team like Seijō) and yet, he has always been the one being chosen instead of him and everything better. Wakatoshi admires the loyalty to him on Tooru's part and it's everything he has ever wanted for himself as well.

But Hajime never faltered and kept him for himself without letting him even try it even once.

It is true that Tooru has always refused him, but Hajime had a big part in all of it, always assuring the other boy his presence in times of weakness and need. Wakatoshi has always wanted to do it as well but with him in the way, it was and is impossible to even wish for it properly.

That is why when he found Tooru in Seijō's gym, _alone_ , he considered it a blessing.

Tooru is impossibly easier to handle and manipulate (not something Wakatoshi wants to do but finds himself constantly having to) when there is no Hajime around him to stabilize him when he is about to go off like a time bomb before breaking down.

Without Hajime around, Tooru let him closer, he let him finally touch that flawless skin of his, kiss those lips... He let him _in._

Wakatoshi, despite the nature of his being, can't help but wonder if he is ever going to be lucky enough to get another taste of him, the one he has longed for for so many years and – he's more than aware – there is only one clear situation in which that can happen.

“Have you decided if you want to keep on with the studies and where?”

Wakatoshi usually doesn't care about any of this – he doesn't even know where his teammates are going to attend next year. All he needs is to keep playing volleyball and compete, possibly at his fullest strength.

The obtaining of _everything_ he desires depends on this one single answer.

Hajime doesn't expect the sudden question coming out of him. Since when does Wakatoshi hold any kind of interest for him? All he has ever had eyes for is Tooru, while he was the one being either ignored or treated like total shit because “he'll never be enough to beat me, Oikawa; you should know that better than me.”

Tooru has never said anything to that statement. He never confirmed it, but didn't deny it either during the last two years. Whenever they came in contact with the spiker, he only stood stiff and tense until it was over. Either way, it has always been about him.

So why isn't he asking about where _Tooru_ is going to instead? Shouldn't he be more interested in that?

Apparently not.

Hajime struggles for the first time in a while; there are less than three weeks until graduation and he still has no clue on where to go next year. He doesn't want to quit school, that is the only sure thing in his life right now.

Everything else is questionable.

“I'm definitely going to go somewhere next year,” he begins, back straight to match Wakatoshi. “I still haven't decided where.”

Wakatoshi's eyes are fixed on him as if Hajime was some kind of target – it is making him uncomfortable, but he can win this. He definitely can, even if he is on his own. There's nothing to be afraid of.

Hajime flinches when Wakatoshi thoughtfully hums in response to what he said, looking strangely- disappointed? And then he sighs and Hajime can't be anything but confused at this point. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That sigh... It looks almost as if my answer disappointed you,” he explains. He really can't stand that attitude of his; he acts superior around everyone he's with and Hajime's sick of it, especially after how he countless times treated his team in the past – fortunately none of them met him after the Karasuno match.

“I suppose you have already made your choice, unlike me,” _because it's you after all,_ is what he wants to add but then decides against it.

Wakatoshi nods. “Tokyo. I am going to Tokyo.”

Hajime's eyes widen. Tokyo? Isn't that where Tooru wants to- Oh. He doesn't know about Wakatoshi yet, does he? Well, how could he even when they never see each other – maybe he should tell him so he can avoid him sulking and getting angry because he won't be able to beat him anymore.

“You're going to keep playing volleyball then.”

Wakatoshi doesn't even think when he gives him the answer. “Of course.” Gold eyes narrow curiously. “Why? Are you not?”

Hajime's mind immediately thinks about Tooru, who wants to keep playing, wants a career with the sport he loves ever since he was a child. He remembers when he got his first ball for his seventh birthday and how he treated it as his biggest and most precious treasure.

He remembers when he made him spike it when they were older. And how he himself fell in love with it too.

Having Tooru as his setter was definitely the most wonderful of experiences, no matter how happy they were for their victories and no matter how hard were they losses. Tooru made everything just so good. If it were possible, Hajime would never even think about choosing a different path from his setter.

But he let him down.

So many times.

And it is only natural for him to think about Tooru's well-being, which most of the times is given to him by his success. Hajime understood long ago that there is only so much he can give him – it is extremely limited and never enough to make him reach the top.

The main problem is that he doesn't even know what he's going to do. It doesn't take a genius to know he is never going to make it on a national team, unlike Tooru or Wakatoshi and-

“I don't know. There are still... things I need to see before I decide.”

Wakatoshi nods, gold eyes never leaving him. There is a long moment of silence between them during which they don't move and just look at each other.

Hajime breaks it after a minute, coughing and finally looking away. “I should go now... I have to be somewhere, so I shouldn't lose any more time.”

“I should be on my way as well.”

Hajime turns around slowly. “I'll see you around then.” He hopes he doesn't. When his back is turned towards him, he exhales heavily and starts to walk away slowly, gripping the two bags in his hands tightly.

“Iwaizumi.”

Hajime's breath hitches in his throat.

“There is going to be a storm tonight.”

He stops in his tracks once again, turning around, bewildered. “Wha-”

But Wakatoshi is already far away from him and it would be pointless to follow him now just to see the look on his face. But what was _that_ supposed to mean? He focuses instinctively on the sky above him – there are clouds and what Wakatoshi said explains the humidity.

But it is not going to be a storm, is it?

Even though, it didn't really feel like Wakatoshi was talking about weather. He returns on his track and decides not to think about it.

***

Wakatoshi knows Hajime is going to Tooru's place – there isn't anywhere else he would be going right now. It is Wednesday after all, the last day of Seijō's exams. He finished his own yesterday and now he is looking forward to tomorrow. He stops in front of the cafè and looks at it – he once went there with his team after a practice match against Kitagawa Daiichi.

He doesn't go in.

***

When Hajime finally arrives at his destination after a twenty-minute walk that felt like an eternity, he knocks on the door as usual. He hears rushed steps down the stairs two seconds later and can't help but smile.

And then it opens and Tooru's head peeks behind it.

“Iwa-chan!” He opens it all the way and motions him to come in, so Hajime does.

They go to the kitchen at Hajime's request so he can put the bags down for now. Tooru wastes no time to look inside while Hajime takes himself a glass of water – after that meeting, he is really thirsty.

“You brought me milk bread!” Tooru yells when he pulls out the first of the six bags he got him. His brown eyes are wide and shiny and Hajime can't help but feel amused by his reaction – he really is a kid even though he always tries not to behave like one. His reactions keep giving him out.

“Eat this one. It's still too early for dinner anyway. Let's go to the living room – there's a movie I want to see,” Hajime says and heads there with Tooru following close by.

They both make themselves comfortable on the couch. Tooru insists to lie down on his lap despite Hajime's initial protests and he eventually manages to do so, putting a pillow on Hajime's legs and adjusting himself on it. He then opens the plastic bag containing his favorite food and licks his lips.

“You look like a dog.”

“Don't be rude Iwa-chan!”

“Don't eat while lying down. You're going to choke.”

Tooru smirks. “Are you perhaps worried about me, Iwa-chan? You're turning into such a big softie,” he teases and Hajime immediately flicks his forehead. “Ouch! You're so mean!”

“And you're an idiot.” It doesn't come harsh, so Tooru doesn't whine anymore. He takes a first bite and hums, closing his eyes. “So good~”

Hajime chuckles and then shakes his head. He takes a hold of the remote control on the other cushion and turns on the TV. The movie has already started and he throws his head back and relaxes. Tooru is warm against him, and he can't help but realize he really likes the way it feels.

He thought about having a shower as soon as he got here, but he can wait until before they start cooking. Tooru turns his head to look at him, swallowing the last bite and then leaning more into him. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

“I bring it to you every time.”

Tooru laughs. “But it's still good. Every time.”

Hajime shakes his head and puts his hand over Tooru's eyes, covering them gently. “Iwa-chan?”

“We're free now, Oikawa.”

Tooru's lips curve up slightly. “Yup.”

They don't speak for a while after that. The only noise in the room is coming from the television while they watch one thing after another. Eventually they end up moving and Hajime's lying on the couch with Tooru on top of him, with his head under his neck and Hajime's arms wrapped around him.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“You stink.”

Hajime narrows his eyes. “Fuck you.” But he does stink, he practiced for two hours so there is no surprise.

“Were you at the gym with the others?” comes right after his insult. Hajime immediately moves a hand to his hair and feels Tooru leaning into the touch. He wasn't there after all; it's been more than a week, almost two, since he last went there to say hi.

“Yeah.”

Tooru nods against him and Hajime doesn't see his expression even though he wishes he could.

“How are they?”

“Fine. They're practicing hard already. They want to redeem themselves next year.”

“Oh.”

Tooru doesn't add anything after that and focuses only on the illuminated screen in front of them. Hajime's arms keep him in place and there is nothing he wishes more than to stay like this forever. It is safe, warm-

“You're staying the night, right?”

“I thought it was obvious,” comes the answer not even a second later.

Tooru smiles at that and closes his eyes. “That's good.” He can't help but feel easier about everything he has been thinking about. It is easier to pretend nothing happened and Hajime doesn't suspect a thing. Tomorrow he is going to meet with Wakatoshi and tell him there is going to be nothing of the deal he proposed to him and he is going to give him his jacket back and then he forget everything that happened.

He is still considering picking Tokyo though – it is still the best one for the career he wants to pursue, but it would be nothing like Wakatoshi wants.

His hands grip tighter on Hajime's shirt and they watch the last part of the movie without letting out a sound. During the end credits, Tooru finally looks up at him. “I'm hungry.”

Hajime sits up, bringing Tooru with him and stretches. “The ingredients are in the bag so pull them out. I'll take a quick shower and then we'll get to work.”

The setter nods and stands up. Hajime follows him for a while until they part ways in the main hall, Tooru heading into the kitchen like he was asked and Hajime going upstairs to the bathroom.

Once in front of the bags, Tooru carefully examines each one, trying to find everything they need – he finds out they need pretty much everything Hajime picked out. Seeing the ingredients, Tooru immediately understands it is going to be a full-filling dinner and he must admit he is looking towards it.

Hajime has always been a great cook – better than Tooru in any case – because his mother always insisted for him to learn at least the basic dishes and Hajime did because otherwise he'd have to do other chores he never looked forward to. Tooru's grateful for that.

“I didn't go home before I came here, so I'll borrow some of your clothes!” Hajime yells from the top of the stairs and Tooru yells back, telling him it is alright. It has always been alright. They have always borrowed each other's clothes, ever since they were kids. Tooru isn't actually aware of how many of his own clothes actually belonged to Hajime once upon a time, but there is no need to know. If he'll ever want them back, he can just go to his house and get them.

Besides, he is pretty sure some of his sweatpants and T-shirts are at Hajime's too.

Tooru muses he should get a bigger closet in the future – if he keeps buying himself clothes and stealing Hajime's, he is going to need more space than what he has now.

It takes him a minute before he realizes it.

_His closet._

Wakatoshi's jacket.

“Oh, _fuck_!”

Iwa-chan.

_No, no. No no nonono-_

He turns on his heel, dropping the package of the eggs from his hands carelessly, not even thinking about how they could break, and runs out of the room and up the stairs – he forgets to breathe, panic overflows; he turns the corner, grabs the door of his room and opens it as wide as possible.

No.

His eyes widen.

_No._

“What's this?” Hajime turns around, the purple jacket held in his hands and one of the most confused looks Tooru's ever seen on somebody's face. He doesn't know what his own face might look like though, but he feels his blood stopping, freezing in his veins – so he must be totally pale by now.

His chest heaves, the rush upstairs without breathing is hard even for him. But it is not what matters right now.

_Why now? Of everything you could have-_

His meeting with Wakatoshi was arranged one day too late.

Hajime's eyes are as wide as his and the expression on his face is the exact thing Tooru wanted to avoid for all this. “Can I get any explanation about this?” To emphasize his words, the spiker raises the cloth and Tooru makes a step back as if it were threatening to kill him any moment – he wishes it was, for real. Because he would totally let it.

But one step is the only thing he can manage, because right after, his body paralyzes and he stops on the one spot at the doorstep. His mouth is full, too full – he swallows hard, feeling his eyes burning. “I... I...” His mouth is open, but there is no sound coming out whatsoever other than a couple of weak syllables that make absolutely no sense.

Hajime stares at him as if he's seen him for the first time, and it is something between shock, curiosity and desire, a burning desire to _know._

Tooru can't speak.

So Hajime sighs, eyes moving down on the cloth and hands moving over it, feeling the waterproof softness of its fabric. If his setter isn't going to speak, then he shall do it first. “I saw Ushiwaka today, before I came here,” Hajime begins and Tooru dares a step forward but stops himself before he gets too close, eyes wide and mouth still open. “But it looks like you saw him first.”

Tooru can't help but shiver.

Did Wakatoshi tell him? _How much_ did he tell him? Suddenly he feels as if he were standing on a layer of extremely thin glass and it's about to crack under his weight and make him fall into the darkest of pits. The air in his lungs isn't enough, but the muscles of his body for some reason don't allow him to take any more in to fill the missing gap, even though he swear that, just a minute ago, his lungs were perfectly functional.

He should have told him not to tell anything to anyone, even if for some reason he hoped Wakatoshi would have kept it to himself – he never thought he could go around and talk about it.

Unless he didn't go to Hajime just to tell him that to break them apart. He should have never trusted him with his weakness – he shouldn't have called to tell him he is breaking down.Now Hajime-

“It's not what you think-”

“ _What_ am I thinking, Oikawa?” Hajime asks, avoiding the setter's gaze and readjusting the jacket on the hanger before putting it back in the wardrobe where he found it. He bites his lip when he realizes it was put right next to Tooru's Seijō uniform.

He hears Tooru moving to close the door of the room – pointless, since nobody is home; but Hajime figures it is just to gain some time he doesn't know how he will use – and then sighing heavily. “I saw him a while ago; he actually came to look for me at our gym.”

Hajime's body stiffens.

He was in their gym? After everything he-

“What the hell did he come for?”

“To _talk_ to me,” Tooru mumbles. It is half of the truth of course, but he can't tell him that. Hajime looks hurt enough already and it's taking everything Tooru has not to keep himself together and not give it away.

Hajime's snapping doesn't help. “To talk to you about what?! Don't tell me he tried once again to convince you to come to his team!” The spiker knows too well it's something Wakatoshi does. There still hasn't been a year where he decided not to try.

There hasn't been a year when Tooru didn't refuse out loud either and instead has always turned around and left.

His eyes follow Tooru's body, which moves from his spot at the door to his futon before he sits down on it and hugs his legs to his chest. Hazel eyes look unfocused, almost empty. “He wanted to talk about college.” He feels his body growing limp, almost as if his own strength were leaving him. Maybe Hajime will stop. He hopes he will stop. He is not ready to handle this conversation right now.

“And at what point did you switch from talking to putting on his jacket without telling me afterwords?” Hajime asks after he closes the wardrobe and lets out a sigh. “I know we don't tell each other every single detail of our day – or better, it is me who doesn't, since you keep blabbing about everything I don't even ask – but I think this one was worth mentioning. Or am I wrong?”

Tooru lowers his head – he can't handle this, just like he thought – and the action only seems to irritate the spiker. “You know, Ushiwaka came by the gym today. He told me this and that. Doesn't seem too hard to say.” After he says these words, something comes to his mind. “Unless...”

Tooru bites his lip.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

This time, when Tooru stiffens, Hajime notices it. _Just like I thought._ There is a part of the story he is missing and from the way Tooru is looking like right now, it is something he _should_ know.

The refusal to make eye contact on Tooru's part makes Hajime's blood boil in his veins – he is acting like this all over again. He knows it better than anyone else, the meaning of this behavior. It happened when they first lost against Wakatoshi, when Tooru shut all his emotions after Tobio arrived and then snapped, when he hurt his knee and when he sprained his ankle.

 _Every_ time.

The same reaction.

“Do I have to drag the words out of your mouth because you don't know how to say it or do you not want to talk about it at all?”

Tooru bites his lip, the content of his unspoken words dances around his mind, making him miserable and incredibly weak (much more than he thought it would). “It's not that I don't want to, Iwa-chan... It's just...” The sentence is broken by his dying voice who soon disappears.

Hajime sighs again.

He takes the couple of steps he needs to reach the futon and then he lowers down so he is on the same level as Tooru. He looks at him, eye to eye, moves his hands on his shoulders and then slides them gently up his neck and over his cheeks, cupping them and making so he won't be able to get away.

Tooru tries to shift, but Hajime prevents it and keeps him still. He is not going to let go until he knows.

“Look at me.”

Tooru doesn't comply, instead his eyes sink even lower, looking to the side.

Hajime's grip on him tightens on reflex, calloused fingers pull on Tooru's brown locks making a slight grimace appear on his face and a small hiss escape his mouth.

“I said look at me!”

It is authoritative this time and Tooru, no matter how much he wants to keep his secret and not look at him until he asks him something else, doesn't want it to stay like this, especially when it is directed at him.

Hajime's eyes are piercing him. Or at least it feels like that, like a thousand sharp needles slowly entering his skull and stabbing his brain.

“Tell me, _Oikawa._ ”

Tooru is looking at him now, and his mouth opens only to be closed again a few seconds later without any sound coming out.

Hajime grits his teeth, now furious – does Tooru really not trust him after everything they've been through? - lets go of him and stands up abruptly. “For fuck's sake, Oikawa!” he shouts and Tooru jolts in surprise. “I don't understand what it is that bothers you and for which twisted reason you don't want to talk about it to me, but if you're going to keep this silent facade of yours, I'm leaving.”

May their evening go to hell, because Hajime isn't going to take this.

He takes a step towards the door, ready to get out, gather his belongings and then go home like he hoped he wouldn't need to do, but then he is stopped by a pull on his shirt. Tooru finally reacts before it is too late.

“He just came to the gym and started to talk. I only wanted to leave, but...”

Hajime's will to leave leaves as soon as he pronounces those words. Tooru, however, still keeps gripping to his shirt; Hajime clicks with his tongue. “Stop pulling, you idiot. I'm here.”

Tooru shakes his head. “Can you sit down? Please?”

Hajime is about to reply that he's fine on his feet, but the look Tooru gives him makes him swallow it and nod. “Okay... _Okay_.”

He settles next to the setter so they are side to side, shoulders touching lightly. There is a brief moment of silence until Tooru's body's tense again. Hajime looks at him, eyes slightly wide. “Oi-”

“Don't get mad at me, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles, hazel eyes staring at his own trembling hands. “Promise you won't get mad at me, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime hesitates.

Tooru doesn't start until he gives him a small nod.

“Keep talking.”

“Okay...” Tooru feels his voice betraying him, coming too high-pitched as if his whole body were anticipating what's about to come. He's more than aware that what he's going to say isn't what Hajime's ready to hear – he isn't ready to remember it either, too afraid of a possible loss of control over his emotions.

He inhales.

And it begins.

“He asked me where I want to go next year, like I already mentioned earlier – because he always does this, Iwa-chan. He told me he's going to Tokyo and... He asked me to come with him.”

He peeks at Hajime from the corner of his eye, trying to read if there's anything on his face, but there is only the same tension he is feeling as well. Tooru realizes it is making him lose his eye for detail, because while he usually can tell anything going through Hajime's head, in any moment, now he can't see anything.

It is dark.

Unknown.

“When I asked him why I should go with him, he started with the usual story about how I'll never manage to beat him.” Tooru remembers that part far too well. “He shit on every single choice I've made: he said I picked the wrong team and I shouldn't have stayed for so long. He said they're worthless and he even said that _you_ are worthless, because you're weaker than him, even with my help.” The memory of the harsh words makes him still shake with anger.

Hajime notices that, of course.

He says nothing.

Because Tooru still has more to say.

“I got mad, really mad. I yelled at him and even tried to punch him, because I can't take it when someone says this about you, but he pushed me against the wall and pinned me against it.”

Hajime's shoulders tense visibly.

Tooru pauses for a moment and then licks his dry lips before resuming his story. “I tried to break free, but he just wasn't letting go. The more I struggled, the stronger he held me... Then he kissed me,” he swallows everything he's got in his mouth – that kiss is something he'll probably remember for a long time. “I tried to escape him again, but he started to touch me, to keep me still even more... Then, he-”

Tooru's breath hitches in his throat.

He can't _not_ tell him that.

Hajime would notice him keeping something else.

And he-

“Did he force you?” comes Hajime's question out of the blue.

And Tooru jumps.

“NO!” He realizes how much he snapped the moment Hajime's eyes widen at the straightforwardness of his answer and loudness of his voice. He shakes his head hesitantly. “No...” he repeats, much quieter now. “He was so... He said he wants me, he said he wants me _with him_ , and I...” His voice doesn't let him finish.

Hajime understands. “You didn't push him away anymore.”

Tooru bites his lip in shame, lowering his head as down as possible and letting out a shaky breath. “He gave me a chance to stop and get out of it, but I didn't take it.” As soon as those words are spoken, Tooru starts to observe him.

Hajime is completely still, looking almost as if he weren't breathing. A couple of seconds later he inhales and looks at him, meeting his eyes. Tooru doesn't think he has ever had to maintain such a heavy eye contact before – the silence makes it even more difficult than it already is.

“So you _let_ him, huh?” he asks and the calm and quietness of his tone is extremely worrying – in some ways even disturbing, because Iwa-chan is never quiet with him – and even the way his body is. Almost as it didn't hit him at all.

And then Tooru notices.

His fists.

The way they are clenched is probably making his nails dig in his palms so painfully (Tooru wouldn't be surprised if he saw blood staining his sheets all of a sudden).

Tooru swallows.

He excepted this talk to be weird, that is why he wanted to avoid it at all costs. But Hajime wants the truth and, well, he already told him the worst part. So...

“I didn't want it in the beginning. At all.” He takes in a deep breath, cursing the part of his mind that is making him feel like this. “But then, in the end... – he can feel the other part of him screaming at him to shut up – I didn't regret it.” Tooru never wished for a slap to shut him up more than now.

Hajime is not looking at him anymore, but Tooru can tell the blow has been hard on him. _Very_ hard on him.

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said he's capable of bringing me victory and that he's going to if I come with him. To Tokyo.” Tooru doesn't know why he suddenly feels a longing in the depth of his stomach – maybe it's because he has never been standing on a thinner layer of ice, or maybe because he's craving to at least see, to feel the Nationals at least once in his volleyball career.

But Hajime seems like he just received the umpteenth slap in the face.

“You're actually thinking about it, aren't you? You _want_ to go?”

Tooru wishes for his neck to break when he nods without thinking. Because they both notice his sudden lack of hesitation none of them (Tooru especially) knows where it is coming from.

“I... am thinking about it. But I don't know...” Wakatoshi is a mystery to him: other than his super powerful spike, his want to have him in his team and the worst personality he has ever seen in a person, he knows nothing about him. He doesn't know where he lives, what he is like when there is no volleyball topic to be talked about, _what he would be like if he was with-_

He knows _nothing._

Hajime understands by know that Tooru has changed. There is no more of that visceral hate he felt for him during all those past years, but curiosity is making its way through now that there are important life decisions to make. Hajime doubts only because of sex (Tooru may be a frivolous man, but he isn't _that_ easy) and can't help but feel something weird in his gut that's making his body feel heavy all of a sudden.

His eyes move on Tooru's body, stopping on the lower part of his stomach.

“Are you alright now?”

Tooru blinks. “Huh?”

“Was he... rough?”

It takes him some time to understand, but eventually he does. And may his thoughtlessness be damned. “I'm fine! It stung a little in the beginning, but it had plenty of time to...” He suddenly stops.

Hajime stiffens.

Tooru _really_ wants to slap himself.

Hajime figures Tooru did say it happened a while ago, but he never said the exact number of days or anything, so... Just how long ago did it happen and he didn't know about it?

“Plenty of time? Just how much of it?”

Tooru knows he just finished digging his own grave and unfortunately it's too late to pull back, all the strength he had gathered to look him in the eye vanishes and his head drops. “Almost two weeks.”

Hajime's jaw drops. It happened _two weeks_ ago? All of a sudden, he is connecting all the strange and weird behaviors of the setter when he last visited him. He was tense, insecure; trying to distract him from that phone number and his wardrobe with the jacket inside.

That's what made him like that.

Was he even going to tell him at some point if he hadn't managed to find out about it?

The silence that follows is the longest one they have had in years. Hajime's mind is a mess and Tooru seems to be trying to understand, to read. Hazel eyes observe as the spiker's calloused fingers tremble and then grip on the fabric of the futon underneath him so tightly Tooru almost feels it hurting.

The eye contact has been lost for a while.

Tooru doesn't manage to see him this time.

And he has never been so afraid.

“Iwa-chan...” The way he calls him is soft, unsure, but Hajime doesn't react to it; black eyes stare at the wall in front of him, his whole body grows numb. Because Tooru kept it in even though he had so many opportunities to tell him.

_Just what are they to each other?_

Hajime's mouth runs dry.

.

Friends.

.

_Friends?_

.

His teeth bite on his tongue harshly until he can feel a faint taste of blood on it. He vaguely hears Tooru's voice calling him again as his mind goes blank.

“Iwa-chan?”

.

It hurts.

.

He takes in some air, trying to fill the emptiness in his lungs. All the realization dawns on him and crushes him down until he can't think he can hold it up anymore. It isn't really because Tooru didn't tell him or what he did, right? A part of him is trying to tell him something but he's completely deaf to it and doesn't catch a word of it.

.

_Why does it hurt like this?_

.

“Hajime.”

He is pulled back to earth when his given name escapes Tooru's lips. The so unfocused gaze finally starts to see his surroundings again and focuses on every detail of the room he learned by heart so long ago. It shifts from the closed wardrobe to the shelf where Tooru's 'Best Setter' Award is standing next to a photograph of their former team at Kitagawa Daiichi and the one they took in the beginning of this last year at Aobajōsai.

Then he looks at the door.

And he stands up on instinct without speaking a word.

“What are you doing?” Tooru watches as Hajime's body starts to move towards the door with wide eyes, and then his arm is raising, hand reaching for the handle.

In less than a second, Tooru is on his feet, jolting towards him and stopping when only a step away, but still so close he can feel his breath repulsed by the warm skin on Hajime's neck. “Where are you going, Hajime?” He's tempted to touch him, to lay his hand on his back – he really needs to feel his presence right now – but Hajime's voice stops him from putting the thought into action.

“Home. It'd be better if I leave...”

Tooru's eyes widen even more. “Leave? No. Wait. Stay...” The effort to regain some of his composure is enormous, but it's everything he has. “I thought you'd spend the night with me.”

Hajime finally turns around to look at him. “Spend the night... _With you_?”

The look in his eyes is making Tooru's blood freeze in his veins and take a shaky step back. He should rephrase it probably. “I- I didn't mean it like that. Weren't we supposed to celebrate tonight? Cook together, watch some movies and-”

“You actually expected me to stay after what you just told me?”

“You promised you wouldn't get mad!” Tooru replies without thinking twice, and it's true even though deep inside he knows it's not that simple. But still, Iwa-chan promised. Iwa-chan always kept all of his promises, so even this one-

“I don't think I can keep this one. That's why I'd better leave.” Because Tooru is not the only thing he is seeing right now. Wakatoshi is behind him and there is no will in the world that could refrain him from thinking and wondering and _seeing._

And he feels like throwing up.

He turns around, refuses to watch Tooru any further. He wants to leave. He _needs_ to leave.

His hand grabs the handle almost violently and opens the damn door, ready to step out and get away from all of this. He doesn't want it in his head, he-

Tooru's hands are on his arm, keeping him from moving and for a moment he sees black.

“DON'T TOUCH ME!”

Hajime misses the moment his body turns around and his hand comes in contact with the setter's face in the strongest slap he has ever given him (or anyone), making him almost fall on his back.

Tooru manages to keep his balance somehow. But he didn't expect this. He definitely didn't expect this. His eyes start to burn as they move one last time on the spiker's figure, who is now turned towards him, face close to his one and a desperate, pained look plastered on it that makes him want to scream in pain and regret all of his actions.

“ _You make me sick_.”

If Tooru's body was already still and heavy before, now it is paralyzed until his feet start to move on their own with the intent to follow his spiker and stop him from getting out of his house and try one last attempt to save the evening from crashing down.

He sees Hajime downstairs, already standing in front of the door, bent over to change his shoes before he leaves. He still has time.

He only needs to get downstairs.

His foot doesn't even manage to touch the first stair.

“Don't you even dare to follow me, understood?!” Hajime doesn't look at him when he yells at him. But his tone is hostile, cold, unfamiliar. Hajime got mad at Tooru a lot of times in the past, but never had he talked to him like this. Like he is the filthiest being on the earth, not worthy to even be alive, let along to be by his side.

So Tooru stops.

He watches as Hajime straightens up.

It is already pouring outside, just like Tooru's seen on the news – it is going to be a stormy night, they said. And Tooru figures it is not only going to be raining for him.

Hajime grabs an umbrella next to where he is standing. Tooru recognizes it – Hajime gave it to him one evening when he forgot his own; it isn't needed to mention Tooru never gave it back and held on it as if it were on of the rarest and most precious treasures of the world – even more precious than his first volley ball.

Then Hajime is opening the door, stepping out, and slamming it close behind him. The noise makes shivers run down Tooru's spine, eyes never leaving it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Seven minutes pass before Tooru exhales and is aware of it.

The dead silence around him is back.

As well as the loneliness.

Tooru feels his eyes burning, because it is killing him and he should have never told him, he should have never faltered before anything and-

It is too late.

_Hajime is gone._

And if he follows him, the bruise on his cheek won't be the only one marking his body. Tooru knows. Because he has never seen Hajime like this and, right now, he knows he shouldn't be close to him. At all.

Until they both get themselves back together.

The silence is killing him though. Tooru knows it is going to finish him off if he stays like this, alone in a huge empty house. So he does what he has been doing for the past couple of weeks to make his mind occupied with something else even for the briefest of moments.

He rushes to his room, opens his wardrobe, pulls out the thickest one of his track suits and slides it on. He then sprints downstairs, slides on his sneakers and runs out of there before he is done for.

It is pouring and he is wet after three steps, soaked after ten, freezing cold after thirty-

-but he still runs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Wednesdays. I also hate when it rains on Wednesdays. I really do, so it explains the choice of the day for this chapter.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry for breaking them up like this. I really am, but please don't worry - I'll make it better in one way or another, I promise. T___T
> 
> I thought in the beginning it was too soon for Iwa-chan to discover about Oikawa's secret in the 4th chapter, but then again: I don't want to beat around the bushes too much (since there are still plenty of things that are going to happen), so yeah.  
> Sorry. XD
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for the lovely comments, Kudos and bookmarks - and support. It really means a lot to me.
> 
> See ya on the next update. :)


	5. And Then You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are coming with me. I live close by and you need to change your clothes and dry yourself up.”
> 
> Tooru looks at him and, even though his sight is weak, it doesn't take anything to realize Wakatoshi's authoritative presence is stronger than his at the moment. Those eyes are piercing into his and Tooru feels both of his legs growing weak.
> 
> He pouts, looking away.
> 
> “Fine.”

Tooru doesn't know for how long he has been running.

Everything around him has been nothing but a blur – his eyes are burning as tears threaten to come out and he desperately struggles to hold them in; he can't let them spill. Not yet. The only thing he is feeling right now (and is barely conscious about it) is the pouring rain falling all around him and all over him, drenching his hair and clothes, moving through the fabric of his pants and tracksuit until they reach his freezing cold skin.

His breathing has been erratic for a while now; ever since he stopped running like he is supposed to and started to sprint wherever his feet seem to want to take him.

His hands are cold, maybe even too cold: he can't even feel the tip of his fingers, and usually in this situation Hajime would tell him it is not good for a setter like him to be so careless about his most precious possession. Also, running in the cold is no good. Running under the rain of a violent storm is even worse.

But Hajime is not here.

And Tooru, as much as he would like him to come out of anywhere and take him by the hand and walk him home where it is dry and warm, is grateful he is not seeing him like this.

His muscles have been screaming at him ever since he ran past the last few houses and into the countryside, especially because the overwork he is putting them through under such a cold weather and in those psychological conditions is everything he should not be doing because of his past condition.

This time he is also elsewhere, a place he never went to.

It is extremely far from his house and, while it takes forty minutes to reach it, it also takes forty minutes to get back.

A part of him, the small one who is still barely conscious, is starting to doubt his dumb choice to try and forget what happened before with a senseless run, but the brief sound in the back of his mind gets buried by the sound of the droplets of rain hitting the ground. Because it is not its duty to put some sense back into him; it would be doing him no good: it could only remind him of how much Hajime would scold him and kick him to take care of him and would end up doing nothing but damage to his body.

And if all of this wasn't already enough, his leg hurts.

_Again._

It's not just the usual pain Tooru remembers having from overworking himself at the gym, that usually goes away by the next morning, no. It's that _fucking_ knee, whose ache has been such a mental relief during the last couple of days and now is becoming the reason he most likely isn't going to get home until the next two hours.

If he only were capable of thinking clearly and listening to what his brain is telling him and turn around before he widens the distance even more.

But he just doesn't want to go back there.

If he does, he is not sure he is going to keep it together.

“ _You make me sick.”_

His mouth has been dry for a while, and it is funny because everything he would need to do is part his lips, throw his head back, and fill it as much as he requires, but he doesn't and the thirst doesn't stop him – he increases speed even more and the tearing feeling in his tendon causes him to grimace and grunt, but that too isn't enough to make him stop. He even forgot to put on his brace, too panicking and uneasy and delirious after Hajime slammed the door and left him alone.

If the rain was causing him enough problems until now, darkness decides to join it to make him even more miserable. He is exhausted, he is pushing himself more than he should; he didn't eat or drink anything except for the one package of milk bread while he was watching the first move with Hajime.

_Hajime._

Just what has he done to him – to _them_?

“ _DON'T TOUCH ME!”_

The need to throw up is strong, but his stomach is too empty to let anything out, his body too exhausted to do anything. But he won't stop. He doesn't want to stop because that is going to make him remember, _think_. _Feel_. And he has crossed too many lines for today to be ready for another dose of guilt and panic and regret to start eating him alive.

He doesn't want it. That feeling...

He doesn't want any of it.

Nobody must see him like this.

With the will in his head, he focuses his eyes on the ground, forcing himself to watch out for any possible obstacle that could make him trip and fall – if that happens, it is going to break his concentration – and increases speed even more.

He passes by a huge field of wheat and by another one of corn and doesn't stop. He sees a few houses further away but ends up passing by them too – he has lost track of where he is a while ago, his mind goes blank and soon he doesn't know where he is heading anymore – not that he had a specific location in mind before -, because it doesn't really matter as long as it isn't his home.

Seconds, minutes go by, his body grows weaker; his eyelids are heavy all of a sudden and his arms aren't moving along his body anymore; his leg wobbles every time he leans his weight on it and his skin is way too wet and the cold water is piercing through his skin and right into his bones..

As expected, the speed he is trying to maintain doesn't last long with the condition his body is in and when it starts to decrease, his sight becomes even more of a blur, until he is forced to close his eyes.

And it happens.

He suddenly crashes against something, which he finds out is a _someone_ when he feels some moving at the impact. He isn't balanced enough to stay on his feet and instead falls back and on the wet ground of the sidewalk with a loud thud. He hisses when his butt comes in contact with it, but he tries to force a smile nonetheless (he is not really sure of how it comes out though). “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts and I didn't see where I was going.”

“Oikawa?”

Hazel eyes widen, his body stiffens.

Wait.

_Wait._

He looks up, but the rain and the darkness make it hard to see, and he forces himself to raise his hands up to rub his eyes and wipe away all the water from his eyelashes so he can at least focus. When he looks up for the second time, he recognizes him, even though his voice has been more than enough to know it is him (even though he hoped it was just an illusion).

“Ushiwaka? What are you doing here?” he asks as he tries to stand up, but his hand slips under his weight and he ends up falling on his butt for a second time with a yelp.

Wakatoshi watches him for a second, before he finally takes a step towards him and reaches out with his hand, offering it to him. Tooru watches it stopping _so_ close to his body, but never touching it, before his eyes meet the hidden gold color of Wakatoshi's. He really hates the darkness – he can't even figure out what kind of look he is making now that he needs it the most.

The hand is reaching out to him and stays there until he finally curses in the back of his mind and takes it.

When pulling him up, Wakatoshi uses a lot of strength – Tooru doesn't even have to try to use his legs because he's already standing, almost pressed against the spiker's body and under the shelter of his umbrella (Tooru only notices it when he doesn't feel the cold droplets falling on his head).

Once he feels the stability of the cement under his feet again, he leans his full weight on them without thinking and it is the first mistake he makes ever since he stopped running: he puts too much of it on his right leg and, after he feels it wobbling a couple of times, it gives out and he feels himself falling again.

He doesn't even come close to the ground this time. Because Wakatoshi's hand finds its way on his hip, giving him the missing support.

It feels weird, especially after what happened earlier and suddenly it's burning against him – he feels it on his skin even though the damp fabric of his tracksuit is between them. He shouldn't be letting him touch him. He immediately pulls away and takes two, three steps back, and feels the rain again.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, this time with more decision and with a clearer mind than before. It's not surprise anymore, it is serious curiosity.

Of all places, he had to be right here, right now.

When Tooru is at his weakest.

Wakatoshi doesn't speak and instead reaches him again, nullifying the space between them so Tooru is back under the umbrella. “Shouldn't I be the one to ask you the same question?”

Tooru raises an eyebrow but doesn't move away this time; he doesn't understand.

“You are quite far away from your house.” Wakatoshi isn't really sure of where it is, but the zone where he remembers having seen Hajime earlier is all but close to here. Also, Tooru lives close to Aobajōsai, and that too isn't exactly behind the corner.

“What?” Tooru finally looks around himself and the little of his surroundings he is able to see is a place he doesn't recognize. At all. He remembers going past a field, but he doesn't see it in the distance anymore. He feels something clenching in his chest and he swallows.

His attention goes back to his leg – he really should have put on his brace – and he tries to shift his weight on it a couple of times. Needless to say, he feels it more than ever.

_Dammit._

Wakatoshi observes him the whole time, and this isn't what he ever expected to see in front of him. Usually Tooru would glare at him (yes, he believes he would still do that even after what happened between them), apparently trying to win some kind of staring contest Wakatoshi never quite understood.

But there is something wrong now.

Even someone like Wakatoshi, who had never had the chance to spend enough time with him to get to know him as good as people like Iwaizumi Hajime do, can notice that much.

Those hazel eyes, usually so focused and observant, are now completely empty, looking around and trying to figure out his location. Besides, he is soaked to his bones and even though it is dark, Wakatoshi doesn't fail to notice the light trembling of his hands or the slightly tense posture of his body. “Oikawa, are you alright?”

Tooru turns around, looking almost startled, as if he forgot he is there behind him. “Y-yes.” Then he tries to force another smile, and Wakatoshi can't help but feel annoyed by it. “I'm just... tired, I guess.” Unconsciously his hands move over his arms, rubbing on them to warm them up.

“You should not have gotten out to run with this weather,” Wakatoshi says. He can't help but notice his tracksuit is actually more similar to a hoodie – and he automatically wonders why he didn't put on the jacket he gave him; the fabric it is made of is waterproof and while it doesn't have a hood, it would still keep at least the upper part of his body warm and _dry_

Tooru doesn't really feel fine with being scolded, especially if it is done by Wakatoshi. So he figures he would better leave before he gets even more pissed off. “I should get back home then.” He doesn't wait for an answer before he turns around, and perhaps he does it too quickly, because he almost loses his balance again.

It takes him a split second to regain it, but it's more than enough for Wakatoshi to notice it.

Tooru feels the other man's hand on him, grabbing his upper arm, pulling him backwards until his back is pressed against his chest in the briefest of contacts.

“Come with me.”

He doesn't need to think twice to pull away from him. “I'm going home,” he repeats and starts to walk but after a couple of seconds, be it because he is weak and tired or because his head is a mess, Wakatoshi reaches him from behind and grabs his arm again, pulling him to himself with more force this time.

When they are face to face once more, Wakatoshi's grip on him tightens and Tooru feels a shiver run down his spine; the shelter above his head is back.

“You _are_ coming with me. I live close by and you need to change your clothes and dry yourself up.”

Tooru looks at him and, even though his sight is weak, eyelids heavy, it doesn't take anything to realize Wakatoshi's authoritative presence is stronger than his at the moment. Those eyes are piercing into his and Tooru feels both of his legs growing weak.

He pouts, looking away.

“Fine.”

So Wakatoshi stands on his side, being careful for the umbrella to be above both their heads before starting to walk. Tooru doesn't look at him, but stays on his side nonetheless – it is nice not to feel the cool water on his skin, even though he's still soaked and it is making it even colder, but it is still better.

Wakatoshi makes him go back on his steps and Tooru can't refuse it now – he won't last another hour like this, so he is just going to let him give him a change of clothes, have a bath to warm himself up and then he is going to be free to return home without any problems.

None of them speaks.

Tooru occasionally grunts when the weight on his leg is too much and it automatically slows him down. Wakatoshi notices and slows down as well, following Tooru's rhythm and, deep down, Tooru appreciates it. He doesn't see how he could possibly follow the spiker when he is in these conditions – not that he'd ever admit it.

The walk takes no more than ten minutes, because one of the two houses Tooru passed next to before belongs to him. It is the biggest one and for now, from the outside it looks bigger than his own.

He doesn't have much time to think about it though, because they are already in front of the entrance and Wakatoshi has pulled his keys out of his pocket and is already unlocking it. Tooru sees no light from the windows, which means nobody except them is going to be home.

Wakatoshi steps in, and Tooru does the same, turning around then to close the door behind him. Wakatoshi turns on the light of the main hall before he takes off his shoes. Tooru imitates his movements and when he straightens up, he finds Wakatoshi's back a couple of steps away.

“Follow me.”

Tooru does.

They get into the bathroom, Wakatoshi turns on the lights in here as well and then turns around, opening his mouth to tell him something, but stops as soon as his eyes land on Tooru's face. Tooru sees him staring wordlessly for a couple of seconds before he raises an eyebrow, slightly irritated. “What? Why are you looking at me like this?”

Wakatoshi blinks.

“What happened to your lip?”

Instinctively Tooru brings his hand to it, feeling the corner of his mouth with his fingertips and finds himself grimacing when he finally touching a particular spot. It's kind of humid and burns at the touch. He walks to the sink, trying his best not to lean on his leg and looks into the mirror.

There is a small red cut on his bottom lip.

“Fuck.”

It escapes his mouth before he has the chance to control himself and prevent it, but his eyes don't leave the wounded part even for a moment.

It must have happened when Hajime hit him.

He was standing indeed in a rather uncomfortable spot – he almost lost his balance and was definitely too close to him, so the spiker's hand slapped him across his cheek, nose and mouth and probably did the damage then.

But still, he is more than shocked to see it: the hit was sure strong, but he didn't expect it to leave a bruise.

Wakatoshi doesn't have to ask him about the details to know he didn't notice it until this very moment. He takes a step forward and Tooru turns his head to look at him. Gold eyes observe his face, but there is no worry in them (there is no reason to for such a small cut after all), but something else.

“What happened?”

Tooru turns to look back at the mirror, the memory of the slap is still so damn fresh in his mind, and then lowers his head. He remembers Hajime's harsh words, remembers the imperceptible sound of his heart shattering when he told him about what happened and remembers what happened after he so desperately tried to stop him and the disgusted look on his face.

Everything he had feared would happen.

“ _You make me sick.”_

He clenches his fists, his hands shake as nails dig painfully in his skin.

Wakatoshi only watches him sucking in a breath to regain his composure. “It was an accident,” he replies eventually – it takes him a couple of minutes of trying to hide his expression to realize Wakatoshi can see him clearly.

When he doesn't hear anything in response, he looks up and _sees_ it finally. _Wakatoshi doesn't believe him._

Tooru swallows.

But then the spiker sighs and nods and Tooru feels a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders.

Wakatoshi is extremely different from Hajime, maybe even the exact opposite. He doesn't force him or hit him or whatever it takes to make him talk. He believes Tooru is big enough to decide whether he wants to tell him everything or nothing at all and he is only doing what he's supposed to do to restore his well-being. Nothing less, nothing more.

He turns on his heel and approaches the bathtub. He switches on the hot water and pours in some soap before turning around, only to find Tooru looking at him again. “Are you going to manage on your own?”

Tooru tries to smile like he did when they were still out but, even this time, the attempt doesn't really go through. But still. “Yeah.”

Wakatoshi nods and gets back to the door, opening it. “I shall prepare dinner, so feel free to take your time.” He is already a step outside the door when he stops once again. Tooru waits.

“If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call me.”

Then the door is closed and nothing but the flow of the water can be heard.

Tooru stays still for a while, then glances at the mirror and his lip. It is starting to get warmer in the room (Wakatoshi must have turned on the heat) and Tooru is freezing cold. He needs to get out of those clothes and he does just that, throwing them carelessly on the floor after pulling out of the pocket of his pants his phone - which is wet like everything else, but surprisingly functional - and then turns towards the tub, which he approaches and then steps into, trying his hardest to avoid standing on his leg. It is impossible, so he ends up cursing quite a lot of times until he's finally seated and welcomed by the oh so comfortable warmth on his skin.

He sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Slowly, the muscles of his legs start to relax, and so do the ones of his back, arms and chest and they send away the painful feeling the cold caused them. Tooru decides to dive in with his head as well, to warm up his messy hair and it's such a relief not to feel the icy biting on his skull anymore.

When he leans back for the second time, his body has grown limp, exhausted from the rough treatment it received from its very own possessor. Tooru feels his eyelids growing heavy, but he's afraid to close his eyes. What if those memories flash back in front of him?

Hajime yelling at him.

Pushing him away.

Slapping him.

Tooru's chest tightens and his hands tremble again, despite the hotness of the water.

He should be anywhere but here right now, most likely chasing after Hajime, to try and apologize and beg for his forgiveness. He should have told him sooner, he shouldn't have been such a coward – but above all, he shouldn't have been so weak to let it all happen and just watch as his whole world crumbled down and slipped through his fingers.

He weakly starts to move his hands over his body, washing every part of himself with tired care. He grabs the bottle of Wakatoshi's shampoo and looks at it. _Mint, huh?_ It somehow suits him.

When he feels soapy enough, he gets under the water with his head again and bends his legs to fit in so even his face is under the surface.

But when he sits back up again and stretches his legs, his breath hitches in his throat, eyes grow wide.

It has been a while since he last felt _it._

He immediately looks at its source, gaze landing on his trembling, red knee. Now that it got warmed up, the muscle has relaxed too much to support it and the adrenaline from his run disappeared, he finds himself sitting paralyzed in the water for long minutes, full of breathtaking pain.

Going out to run like that was a bad idea.

He really is an idiot.

Maybe, no... _Definitely_ , he should get out of the tub and put some ice on it and then put on some dry clothes and then get home. He doesn't really want to owe Wakatoshi in any way, but still... He will have to make this sacrifice if he wants to sleep in his warm bed tonight.

So, with the ache in his chest and the burning pain in his leg, he tries to stand up.

“Fuck!”

His first attempt is a failure. He is unable to bend his leg properly without the piercing ache that makes him grunt and makes tears threaten to come out, let along pull himself up to stand on it even briefly like he was able to do before he got in.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths and then tries again. This time he doesn't manage to bend it either; his body just doesn't listen to what he is telling it to do. He glares at his own leg and then puts his hands on it, trying to massage it slightly and hoping it'll help him a little. It does the exact opposite, and hurts even more after his ministrations.

He curses again and then opts to use his arms to help himself, because even if he manages to stand on his good leg, how is he going to step out without using the other and falling?

The plan B isn't actually simple either – well, usually it is; but this is not usually; it is extremely slippery and his body is exhausted to do such a usually simple task.

The warmth that felt so comfortable a little more than a minute ago is now turning into his greatest enemy, working through his muscles and making them relax more than necessary.

He is almost, _almost_ tempted to call Wakatoshi, but he doesn't. He won't embarrass himself like this in front of him. If it were anyone else, Hajime, anybody, _Hajime_ – heck, even Tobio, he would've been out by now. But Wakatoshi? No, he is not going to call him. Ever.

He tries one last time – he must get out of there even if it kills him – and finally is able to shift on his knees, even if not without pain. It kicks the breath out of his lungs and he takes himself a moment to rest before continuing.

“Oikawa, I have brought you a change of clothes. I am coming in.” There is a knock on the door and before Tooru has the time to let his voice out to tell him not to come in, Wakatoshi is already inside the room.

Hazel eyes meet gold and they stare at each other for what feels like eternity. Tooru manages to find a way to stay balanced on his arms and doesn't even bother to cover himself up in front of him – he already saw him naked anyway. He knows that if he stays like this, his arms are going to give out without him being able to stop it. He doesn't have the strength to get out and hopes Wakatoshi will just leave those clothes somewhere and leave him until he finds a way.

It doesn't happen.

Wakatoshi lays the clothes next to the sink and then, after one last, long glance, he finally approaches Tooru, grabbing a large bath towel from the pile he holds on a nearby stool and is on his side in less than a couple of seconds.

Only then he sees the trembling of the setter's arms.

“Allow me to help you.”

Tooru glares at him, eyes wide. “I can manage!”

Wakatoshi's scowl isn't enough to make him change his mind. “Stop behaving like a child.”

“No!”

Wakatoshi snorts and wraps the towel around the setter's shoulders without his approval, before lowering down and sliding an arm behind his back and under his right arm. Tooru struggles, but Wakatoshi's embrace tightens. “Enough now. And hold onto me.”

The tone of his voice makes Tooru's eyes widen. He won't be able to send him away until he has his way apparently. After huffing out in frustration, he finally wraps his arms around Wakatoshi's shoulders, being careful not to drop the towel around him.

Immediately, he feels himself being raised up gently and carefully and _it doesn't hurt_. Well, it doesn't hurt until he is forced to bend his leg to step out. Even if there is no weight on it, he still has to use his muscles and his tendon doesn't really appreciate it.

He can't hold in a grimace and a hiss.

Wakatoshi doesn't comment on it, but he does notice indeed. He only grips on him tighter and raises him up even more, shifting all the weight he possibly can onto himself.

When finally out of the tub, Tooru sighs in relief and pulls away from the taller boy, instinctively wrapping the huge towel around himself so it doesn't fall off. Wakatoshi's hand lingers on his back a little longer than it should, but that feeling is gone soon as well. Wakatoshi moves a step away and points at the tub.

“Sit down and let me see your knee.”

Tooru shakes his head. He is not going to let him touch it.

“It's not needed.”

Maybe he should have come with something better than that, like _“I don't want you to,”_ or something different than “it's not needed” because it _is_ needed. And they both know that. The glare he receives from Wakatoshi confirms it.

So he sits down on the edge of the tub and looks away.

He doesn't see Wakatoshi turning around and opening the cupboard under the sink and then looking inside of it before pulling out some bandages and some anti-inflammatory gel, before standing up and approaching Tooru again. The setter still isn't looking at him.

Wakatoshi sighs quietly and then kneels down in front of him, putting himself in Tooru's view and watching those hazel eyes widening before finally focusing on his leg.

Tooru watches his hands raising up and getting closer to his still humid skin before those calloused fingers finally come in contact with it. He sucks in a breath, both for the pain and for the sight he is witnessing. Ushijima Wakatoshi _on his knees_ in front of him.

His hands run over his knee, then on its underside and then on his thigh, and even though it is tickling, Tooru is almost hypnotized by it; the way it feels on his skin is weird, but not unpleasant.

He remembers that night in the storage room once again and there is no way for him to stop the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Why is he thinking about it now?

Wakatoshi makes him spread his legs slightly and moves forward in between them, so his hands can move freely over the red skin of his right leg and examine it the best way he can. Tooru closes his eyes. It hurts so much, dammit.

“Oikawa.”

His voice recalls him from his thoughts. His eyes fly open, only to find clear gold staring into them. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Why is your knee brace not here?” Wakatoshi asks quietly, and Tooru can only focus on the warm hand that's still on him. His eyes move to the messy pile of his wet clothes and figures Wakatoshi must have seen it's missing. Well, there's no point in lying to him now. He's not an idiot.

“I forgot to put it on.”

“You forgot?”

“Yeah...”

Wakatoshi shakes his head in disapproval. “How irresponsible of you.”

Tooru rolls his eyes and clicks with his tongue before looking away once again. How familiar. “I don't need you too to scold me,” he mumbles, crossing his arms.

Wakatoshi gives him a look. “Me _too_?”

Tooru shrugs. Hajime always does, but Wakatoshi has never hanged around with them to know that much. Not like he's going to tell him his name – it is none of his business. But since he said that already, he should at least clarify it a bit. “It's not like you're the only one.”

Wakatoshi understands.

Iwaizumi Hajime.

He turns to his side, grabs the small box of gel and pours some of it on his fingers. He rubs them a couple of times to warm it up and then smears it over the red skin in front of him, making Tooru hiss at the still too cold sensation. “Fuck.”

Wakatoshi glances up, sees the pained expression on his face. “Whoever scolded you before did a poor job,” because if it had been done better, he wouldn't be battered at his house like this. Not that Wakatoshi minds. Sure, it would be better if he were here on his own will and possibly healthy.

His statement seems to piss off Tooru, who immediately glares, gritting his teeth and when Wakatoshi realizes he's about to yell something at him, he presses his fingers against a certain spot around his knee, making Tooru yelp instead. Tooru knows he did it on purpose, the expression on his face is more than a confirm, but in the end he decides not to say anything.

Even if Wakatoshi's was an open criticism to Hajime.

When the gel is finally absorbed by his skin, Wakatoshi reaches out for the bandages and then slowly starts to wrap them around the damaged spot and once again, Tooru can't help but look at his movements, his cheeks slowly heating up from where they left from (he tells himself it is because of the hot water still in the tub behind him and the heat Wakatoshi turned on previously).

Wakatoshi is careful, _extremely_ careful. And gentle.

The way he moves his hands, the way he sets those bandages, so tidily and _perfectly_ , as if he had already done it before. There is no way he doesn't know what he is doing, but Tooru won't ask him, even though he doesn't recall ever hearing of Wakatoshi getting hurt. He remembers when Hajime did this same thing, when he hurt his knee in middle school. And even when he sprained his ankle in the beginning of this school year.

He has always been good at it.

But Wakatoshi is too.

The delicacy of the movements of his hands isn't the one of one of the top three spikers in Japan, that can break wrists if the ball he spikes is received incorrectly and create desperation in the hearts of every team he plays against. With those bandages, he almost seems harmless (if it weren't for all the times Tooru's heart was shattered too).

When Wakatoshi fixes them so Tooru is able to stand up without making them fall or misplace them, he gets up on his feet and picks up the clothes Tooru was wearing before. He hangs them over his arm and then takes one last thing from under the sink; a bottle of disinfectant, Tooru notices. He then takes a cotton ball as well and hands them to the setter, waiting until he finally takes them.

Tooru holds them tightly and then gives him a confused look.

“Your lip,” is all Wakatoshi tells him and then he turns towards the door. “I shall go and hang these to dry. When you are done here, come and join me in the kitchen.” Once again, he doesn't wait for a reply before he exits.

Tooru stays there for about a minute, just staring at the closed door, before he finally stands up. It still hurts, but the tight support is helping him to maintain his balance and makes it more tolerable than before. It is much better, just like when his brace is on. He limps to the sink, where Wakatoshi left his clothes and then turns to look at the mirror, eyeing his lip once again. He quickly pours some of the pink liquid of the small bottle on the cotton and then presses it against the bruised spot.

He winces, but he can bear with it. It is better to clean it up anyway – even though maybe he should have been more gentle. Fortunately, it not being too big of a cut doesn't force him to hold it on for a long time – a minute is more than enough.

He leaves everything there so Wakatoshi can put it away later and focuses on the clothes next to him. His hands take them carefully. There is a black t-shirt, a pair of gray sweatpants and purple briefs underneath them. That will most certainly do.

He lets the towel over his shoulders fall on the floor and then puts on the underwear without even thinking twice. He walks to the stool with the towels to grab a smaller one, which he uses to rub his wet hair with before he puts on the rest of Wakatoshi's clothes. When he is fully dressed, he can't prevent himself from looking into the mirror.

It is weird.

There is only a five centimeters of difference in their heights, yet the difference in their muscle build is definitely more noticeable. The t-shirt is extremely large for him around his shoulders and chest, even though the length is just about right. It exposes his collarbones more than it should. But well, it is only for tonight, until he gets home and changes into something else.

The waistband of the pants is elastic and fits his hips perfectly, even though they are slightly too long – a centimeter or two, nothing too much.

Tooru hates to admit it, but these clothes are incredibly comfortable and warm.

He shakes his head before his thoughts wander off to somewhere else and decides to clean up the mess he made when Wakatoshi pulled him out, drying everything up around the tub, opening the window above it and letting then the water flow away. He hangs the towels on a nearby small clotheshorse, obviously put there for them to dry and then looks around. Everything seems to be on its place, except for the gel and the disinfectant Wakatoshi has to put where he holds them.

He takes in a few deep breaths and gets ready to step out of the room.

He finds himself in the hall from before and follows the way they used to come to the bathroom before. He opens the door and finds himself in the main hall, right in front of the entrance, and when he hears the noise of plates coming from the door on his right, he knows it is where he is supposed to go.

When he steps in, he finds Wakatoshi at the table, setting it for them, he flinches. He doesn't say a word, because Wakatoshi raises his head and looks at him. “You can sit down. It is ready.”

Tooru licks his lip and immediately grimaces. He totally forgot about the bitter taste of the disinfectant on his lip. _Oh, well._

He slowly limps to one of the chairs and sits on it carefully, trying not to bend his bad leg at all and surprisingly he manages to do just that. Immediately he finds in front of himself a bowl of rice and vegetables and also some grilled fish. The portion's really big - not something he is used to. At all.

He remembers the nauseating feeling in his stomach from before and now that his body is grown so tired from before, it's back again. His eyes move up and in front of himself, only to find Wakatoshi sitting at the opposite side of the table, a bowl of rice and chopsticks already in his hands.

“What is it, Oikawa?”

Tooru remembers Hajime and how he shouldn't be here. The alcohol taste on his lip is sure to remind him every time his tongue comes in the briefest of contacts with it. “I'm not hungry.” He didn't expect so much food to be prepared for him and he is not sure he would feel alright if he ate it. He would owe him even more than he already does.

“ _Oikawa._ ”

“What?”

“Eat.”

“I told you I'm not hungry.”

Wakatoshi puts down his bowl, straightens up in his chair and gives him that particular look that makes Tooru so mad every time he sees it. It's that scolding, _I am superior than you_ look he always gives him when he knows he is going to win. Well, he is not going to this time.

“You have been running in the cold and for a long time. You need to restore your energy, so eat.”

“If I were hungry I would eat, but I'm not!”

A moment of silence follows.

And there is that staring contest all over again, Wakatoshi realizes. Tooru's glaring isn't something he wants to put up with too much, but it seems he just doesn't want to understand. So be it.

“Ushiwaka-chan, I-”

His stomach growls.

Hazel eyes widen and he looks down, cheeks turn to a dusty pink color due to the embarrassment. Wakatoshi knows he has won again. “Eat.”

Tooru sucks in a breath and finally grabs the damn bowl and chopsticks. It is for his own good, his own body is telling him that. He finally picks up some rice, eyes glancing one last time at Wakatoshi, who is already eating his portion.

When it is in his mouth, he takes his time to taste it for good.

And dammit.

It is good.

It is _so_ good.

He starts to eat slowly but constantly, almost amazed at how the dishes, as simple as they may be to prepare, are a completely different story from how he prepares it. Or how his mother prepares it. Or how Hajime does.

He likes when Hajime cooks for him. His food always tasted better than anyone's, even if he only prepares simple things – Tooru likes it. He definitely likes it.

As much as he doesn't like to admit it, _this_ is better. He looks at Wakatoshi without saying a word, but the spiker isn't looking at him and instead has his eyes closed as he eats his food slowly. Tooru doesn't know if he should say something, because this is too awkward and yet, he's so busy filling his mouth before he can even manage to swallow what he is already chewing.

He has never been a frantic eater, but this time he can't stop. He doesn't know if he should blame it to the overwork he put his body through or the lack of control he seems to have every time he is in front of Wakatoshi, but it is definitely stronger than him.

Before he realizes it, he is finished.

His stomach feels full and some of his energy seems to be back. He lays the bowl of rice next to the plate where the grilled mackerel was lying before.

Hazel eyes look up and Wakatoshi is looking at him this time.

Tooru observes his expression and finds it odd; the always-so-strict look is still on his face and Tooru doesn't know why, but it seems much softer than usual. Maybe it is because his lips are curved up slightly. Tooru swallows; he must be so satisfied with himself.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Water,” Tooru replies dryly. His throat has been sore for a while now that he thinks about it.

Wakatoshi stands up from his seat, picks up the two empty bowls and the plates and puts them in the sink before he reaches up into one of the cupboards to pull out two glasses. He walks to the fridge and takes a bottle of water as well and then pours it into them.

Tooru doesn't hesitate to take his one when Wakatoshi hands it to him. He drinks it down in one shot – he never thought he would be so thirsty, but he didn't drink anything ever since Hajime came to his house earlier.

His head lowers after he lays the now empty glass on the table in front of himself.

He shouldn't be here.

“You can go to the living room while I wash the dishes. I shall join you as soon as I am finished here.”

He should go.

Wakatoshi looks at him, waiting for a reply, but Tooru just nods and stands up. His limping towards the door is extremely evident and when he reaches it, his leg gives out and he ends up hitting his shoulder against its frame. He curses.

“Oikawa-”

“I'm fine.”

He gets out without adding anything else and Wakatoshi watches until he is out of sight.

Tooru takes good five minutes to reach the living room, even if it is immediately next door to the kitchen and when he sees the couch, it's the most heavenly sight he could possibly have in front of him at the moment. His body is begging him to sit down, so he is going to do it, rest a couple more minutes and then leave.

He lets himself fall on the soft cushions and then grabs the remote control from the coffee table and turns on the TV. He pulls his good leg up to his chest, while he lets the bad one stay normally – it already hurts enough when it's stretched so it'd be worse to bend it like the other one to make it hurt even more.

There is the drama he adores to watch with Hajime on TV. He usually teases him when he wants to change channel because _“come on, how can you even watch this dumb shit?”_ and it usually ends up with them laughing like idiots before they retreat to Tooru's or Hajime's room.

The heartache in his chest is back and it's stronger than before and right now, Tooru doesn't know if it is that or his leg that hurts the most. The pulling of his tired muscles sure doesn't help him to feel better.

He hears footsteps in the main hall. The sound dies and a door is closed and then they're back a minute or two later and are approaching the living room. Tooru closes his eyes, letting out a sigh – here he comes.

When he opens them, he can't help but feel slightly startled.

Wakatoshi is standing in front of him, a glass of water in one hand and a small, white box and a bag Tooru supposes contains ice in the other. Tooru tilts his head to the side in confusion, until Wakatoshi hands both of the contents to him.

“What is this?”

“Painkillers. They should help you through the night,” the spiker explains.

Tooru forces a small smirk on his face.

“Are you trying to drug me, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi blinks, moving away slightly. And then he sighs again. “If you do not trust me and prefer to bear with the pain, feel free to do so.”

Tooru rolls his eyes at the answer. There really is no joking with him, is there?

He grabs the box from his hand, opens it and pulls out two small pills.

“I believe one is enough.”

Tooru scoffs. “I don't think you've ever had an injury if you say so.” And with that, he shoves them in his mouth, grabs the glass of water being offered to him and drinks it down until it is empty. He gives it back, hazel meeting gold again. Wakatoshi seems rather bothered by his words, but Tooru knows more than well that one isn't enough. It's never been.

Wakatoshi still doesn't move away and Tooru looks at the bag of ice in his hand. “What?”

“It may take a while before they start to be effective, so have this until they do.”

Tooru wants to reach out for it, but before he has the chance to, Wakatoshi already puts it on his leg and all Tooru has to do is to replace the spiker's hand with his own. The cool sensation on the irritated skin, even though there are the sweatpants and bandages in between, is pure bliss. Tooru throws his head back with a sigh.

He feels the cushions shift as Wakatoshi sits on the opposite side of the large couch, completely silent as he focuses on the screen in front of him. Tooru sees him raise an eyebrow and somehow feels stupid for choosing this drama to watch with him. As long as it's Hajime, it's fine. But with Wakatoshi...

He feels slightly embarrassed.

The feeling goes away as soon as it comes as tiredness slowly overcomes him. The painkillers are finally starting to have the desired effect, even if the feeling is still there, but it's much more bearable now.

He pulls his other leg up.

The drama ends, and a movie starts instead and Tooru is already turned on his side and leaned against the back of the couch in a half-sitting position with his legs up and his feet a couple of centimeters further from Wakatoshi's leg. Wakatoshi doesn't look at him, except for a couple of glances whenever he feels him shift. Tooru knows about them, because his eyes aren't looking where they should.

He observes Wakatoshi's form, so still and stiff and awfully perfectly postured it is almost scary. But even when he looks like this, he was still able to treat him gently (maybe even too much; Tooru hoped for him to be rougher so he could at least hold a grudge against him for it) when he pulled him out of the bathtub and, even though he behaved authoritatively when ordering him to come with him or let him see his knee or eat, Tooru can't hold it against him.

It is nothing that Hajime wouldn't do if he were here instead of him.

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning more into the soft fabric of the couch and takes a minute to look at the clothes he is wearing. Sure, the shirt may be a little big for him, but in the end it fits just like everything else, and Tooru would be too much of a fool even for himself if he even tried to say he isn't feeling comfortable.

Just like his jacket.

Tooru clenches his fists unconsciously. _Dammit._

If he only were less sleepy, he would have already pushed those thoughts out of his head and maybe it is because of the painkillers, but he is definitely feeling weaker than he should be. That tiny part of his mind that holds some kind of interest for the man in front of himself is starting to drive him crazy and Tooru hates that he can't fight it and put it in its place.

He is screwed.

“Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi looks at him.

 _Oh well..._ It is too late now, isn't it?

Tooru lowers his head.

“Thank you for dinner,” he mumbles, but it is perfectly audible for both of them. “It was... good. Really good.”

If he only were looking up in that moment, he would see golden eyes widen for a split second before returning back to normal. Wakatoshi shifts slightly and Tooru feels his eyes shutting close.

“There is no need to thank me,” because it is what anyone would do. Anyone who _cares_ about him at least.

The spiker now watches as Tooru's body grows limper and limper and he knows he is about to fall asleep right there. However, being the condition his body is in not really the best one, Wakatoshi figures it may not be healthy for him to stay where he is.

He moves closer to him.

“Oikawa.”

“Mhm?”

“Let me accompany you to my bedroom. You will hurt your back if you sleep here.”

Tooru's eyes fly open and his body stiffens. He raises his head, looking at the man who just stood up in disbelief. “No, wait!” Although it's hard for him right now, he stands up abruptly, flinching when his leg gives out for a moment before he stabilizes himself.

Wakatoshi blinks.

Tooru shakes his head before continuing. “I have to go home. It's late and I have school tomorrow,” _and I can't say here; with you. Alone._ He doesn't say that last part though – it would be one more weakness of his to be exposed when he's so vulnerable he won't be able to defend himself from that look.

He takes a couple of steps back, trying to get further from him.

It has not even been a second and Wakatoshi is already a couple of inches away from him. Tooru looks away and bites the healthy side of his bottom lip. “Let me borrow your umbrella and I'll be going. I'll return it to you as soon as I can,” he says and when Wakatoshi doesn't reply, he looks up again.

His breath hitches in his throat.

“Oikawa.”

The way his name is slipping from his lips makes his body tremble. And Oikawa can't help but wonder why it is happening now. Of all the years they've been rivals to each other, why does it have to be now? It is the last chance for him to escape the spiker's grip and yet, his body isn't moving.

"JUSTIFY">“Let me leave.”

“No.”

“I want to leave!”

Wakatoshi sighs, then turns around and walks towards the giant window of the living room and then removes the curtain covering the outside. “Look.”

Tooru walks next to him and _looks._

It is raining even stronger than before and it seems even the wind started to blow a while ago (he could hear the noise in the background), which means the umbrella wouldn't even be much of a use to him if he gets out. But still, he can't stay here.

“I can have another bath when I'm at home,” he mumbles and immediately feels Wakatoshi's gaze on him. He looks up, without fear or embarrassment anymore and they stare at each other for a while. Until Wakatoshi turns his head so he's facing the outside again. “It will take you about forty minutes to reach your house if you run. With this weather it is going to take at least the double of that time if you walk and, seeing the condition of your leg, it will take much more than that. Maybe an hour and a half, if you're lucky,” explains Wakatoshi and Tooru stiffens.

Fuck.

“It doesn't matter, I-”

“Do not be a fool, Oikawa.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue. He hates it when he is right; the painkiller might be working right now, but if he strains his injury further it will be useless, and he can't afford himself to collapse in the middle of the street – no one would find him until morning and that would not be good.

Even a fool like Tooru can get that much.

He sucks in a breath. “Tch.”

He doesn't meet the spiker's eyes, even though they have been glued on him ever since he scolded him. He clenches his fists and narrows his eyes and is grateful to everything he has and hasn't that Wakatoshi isn't touching him.

Still, at the moment, _he_ is the strongest and Tooru realizes it would be futile to resist.

“Fine then.”

His words are a mere whisper, almost buried in the sound of the violent droplets on the outside, but he knows he heard him. And may he be damned for accepting, but he doesn't want to spend the last two weeks of his third year locked in his room with a flu.

Tomorrow he will get up early, get home, change into his uniform and then go to school. Like every other day.

He feels Wakatoshi's hand brush his shoulder before he walks away.

“Follow me.”

Tooru hesitates, turning around to look at the tall figure walking towards the door. Wakatoshi stops at the threshold and turns his head, glancing at the setter from the corner of his eye.

Tooru pouts. He shouldn't be here. _Really._

“Fine, fine, Ushiwaka-chan.”

But still-

.

\- he follows

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter is done. 
> 
> I'm not really sure about this one, I have so many mixed feelings - I mean, I am satisfied by it, but I don't know. I really like the idea of Oikawa finding Ushijima when he's lost and Iwaizumi isn't where he can look for relief and I thought that testing Oikawa and making him find himself in front of the one he considers his greatest threat when he's at his weakest would be interesting to do.  
> Especially now that there's nothing he has left to help him up except him - I'm probably being too mean to my favourite setter, but I'm a huge sadist (dammit).
> 
> Also, the gentle giant Ushiwaka-chan is an idea I grew to love soooo much during the last few weeks and Oikawa should just accept it - but I still think Ushijima would be strict enough to him if he doesn't listen (especially if it's about his well-being), so... Yeah. Sorry, Oikawa-san.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and Kudos and Bookmarks and - it makes me so happy people are liking this story this much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!


	6. Stay Here and Protect Me From My Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had a fight with Iwa-chan.”
> 
> He swallows after that, closing his eyes and waiting.
> 
> No answer is given to his words and Tooru stops breathing. He waits for a whole minute, before he turns his head slightly. “Ushiwaka-chan, are you already asle-”
> 
> “Why are you telling me this?”

Tooru looks around himself curiously; a good part of his tiredness has gone away the moment they stepped into the room.

Into Wakatoshi's room.

Tooru can't really say he imagined it like this, but he can't say did not either. It is much bigger than his own, with a futon right under the window opposite the door, a big wardrobe on its left and a large desk, low like Tooru's, on the right with the cushion to sit on.

Wakatoshi immediately heads to the futon, unaware of the setter's attention towards the room, and unrolls it before preparing it for Tooru to lie down later.

Tooru glances at him for a moment before focusing on his surroundings again. Everything is extremely tidy and put in order, nothing like in his or Hajime's room. Well, he admits he has gotten better at keeping everything in place, but he still gets scolded by his mother at times.

Ushijima is just on another level. Even at this.

He walks to the shelves, so neat and completely dustless, and tries to be as collected and as less curios as possible - he doesn't really want Wakatoshi to see how much he wants to know about him. His eyes immediately fall onto the shelf above his desk, containing all the 'Best Wing Spiker Award'-s he managed to get during his middle school and high school volleyball career. There are twelve of them in total, which means he managed to get the prize twice a year, both at the Interhigh and Spring High. And he managed to get it for six consecutive years.

Tooru sucks in a breath.

_Damn him._

He chooses not to look at the prizes he brought home from National championships, which are set above those. He would get pissed off even more.

Tooru really hates geniuses, but Wakatoshi is more than that, a combination of genius, skills and hard word, always taking his team to victory through all the obstacles in their way and never letting them down, showing them the world of Nationals and other extremely strong teams Tooru's only ever seen on TV and magazines.

Just what is it like to be there?

What is it like to play _with him_?

Tooru can't help but feel bitter – he is never going to be able to see that.

His eyes wander on the shelf above that, and there is a huge collection of DVD-s on it; all of them are volleyball matches. There are international games, college matches (lots of them are of Tokyo's teams) and even high school matches. Tooru can clearly see all the Aobajōsai ones, both against Shiratorizawa and also against other teams. The boxes are even of a light aqua color, the same of their uniform, and are perfectly distinguishable from the others.

So after all, he _does_ follow his matches.

Tooru doesn't know why there is a weird feeling in his chest at the thought. And he would like to tease him about it, but he does the same, watches every team he's interested in to get to know it, to learn about it. So he's going to keep his mouth shut this time.

“Oikawa.”

He turns around, immediately pushing everything away from his head. “What is it?”

“It is ready.”

Tooru looks down at the queen-sized futon, on which Wakatoshi put two pillows which look extremely soft from Tooru's perspective and a heavy blanket which only seems to be waiting for him to get under it - Tooru doesn't know if it is because he has tired or if he just wants to finally be comfortable and get the sleep he needs so bad.

He blinks a couple of times, but it only adds to his crave.

He doesn't even see Wakatoshi moving away from his spot and finds him in front of himself, only a step away from him, so close he can feel his warm breath on his lips. He looks up, meeting those golden orbs but not really seeing them. Just when did he lose all his focus?

“You are tired,” Wakatoshi speaks before moving away, walking to the closet. “You can lie down, I shall go and have a bath.” With that, he opens it and pulls out a pair of sweatpants, similar to the ones he brought to Tooru and a white, cotton t-shirt. Then he looks at Tooru one last time, before nodding slightly when the setter says nothing and getting out of the room.

When finally alone, Tooru decides it is enough with snooping around and finally falls on his knees in front of his want for relaxing and gets onto the soft mattress Wakatoshi prepared for him. It feels really good, he must admit it, but it is also kind of weird.

Wakatoshi sleeps here every night; Tooru knows, because he can feel the faint smell of mint of his shampoo, and now he is here instead and- _God_ , it is calming his nerves more than he could have imagined. He only thinks about it the second after an image of him held by those arms flashes through his eyes.

Are they going to sleep _together_?

Tooru shakes his head. _No, it's not going to happen._

The guest futon.

_Right, the guest futon._

He looks around himself a little more, still not wanting to lie down, even because now he can take advantage of the fact that Wakatoshi isn't here. There is a volley ball next to him and he is almost tempted to take it in his hands and toss it in the air for a bit, but he is too tired for that and would most likely end up with it landing on his face, despite his skills and reflexes.

He searches for something else and finds some magazines behind it and decides to give them a shot – it would be beyond amusing if he found porn in Ushiwaka-chan's room. He would not let him live that one down. He smirks, already imagining the scene, and grabs the whole pile, bringing it closer and it doesn't take him even ten seconds to realize they are all volleyball-related magazines. He sighs - it seems there is going to be nothing of his evil plan.

Oh well, it is not like he really expected to find anything.

It is Wakatoshi after all.

He grabs the one on top of the pile, eyeing the cover for a moment, before realizing it is an old issue, released in the beginning of his third year of high school. It is very familiar - he immediately opens it and starts to go through the pages until he stops, eyes growing wide.

His interview.

He remembers giving it some time before the Interhigh started, when the reporters found out he was going to be Seijō's captain.

_Ushiwaka read that?_

“ _My teammates are everything to me. I won't let them down.”_

He remembers saying those words as if it happened yesterday.

And yet, he let them down and he hasn't even stopped by the gym ever since Wakatoshi messed him up. He can't help but feel bad about it, but right now, he just can't face them after what he did. _I'm such a coward,_ he thinks with a grimace.

He decides to go through the rest of the magazine; there is Shiratorizawa as well, an article on Tobio and his choice to go to Karasuno and even about Date Tech, who received some strong first-years. Tooru smiles, remembering them all. They were such a pain to beat, but he had fun.

Minutes pass by without him realizing, and soon it has been half an hour since Wakatoshi left him in the room and the door opens again. Tooru looks up and finds the figure of the spiker coming in, dressed in the clothes he has brought with himself, damp hair and a towel wrapped around his neck.

Gold eyes widen slightly.

“Why are you still awake?”

Tooru blinks a couple of times to get adjusted to the sight in front of him, before his lips curve into a small smile as he raises the magazine in his hands. “I lost track of time reading this.”

He shifts slightly, crossing his legs and watching as Wakatoshi approaches him and lowers on his legs so they are facing each other. “You are quite exhausted, so lie down properly.” He waits until Tooru adjusts himself and pulls the warm blanket over himself before continuing. “You forgot your phone next to the sink,” he tells him, laying the device next to the setter. Tooru flinches and thanks him quietly; he really forgot about it. His eyes follow Wakatoshi's movements as he grabs the magazine, putting it back onto the pile Tooru took it from and then stands up.

“I was waiting for you to lie down as well to go to sleep.”

Tooru has never been able to sleep when he is at someone else's house and there are people awake and walking around. Even when he spends the night at Hajime's, he is always the last one to fall asleep because he can't relax if his mother or father are walking down the hall to get into one of the rooms.

He doesn't know why, but it is a habit that has never gotten away.

Wakatoshi looks down at him, finally understanding why he is still awake now, and nods. “Good. Goodnight then, Oikawa.” With that, he turns around towards the door, ready to leave.

Tooru's breath hitches in his throat.

“Wait, what do you mean goodnight? Where are you going?” he asks confused. He hasn't prepared himself a futon where to sleep, nor did he even give a sign of wanting to lie down next to him.

“I will be in the living room if you need me.”

Tooru doesn't understand. He is going to sleep on the couch after he told him not to? He tilts his head to the side, gripping the covers over his body unexpectedly tightly. “Can't you pull out the guest futon? I mean, it'll be a little cramped, but we can fit it just fine if we move the desk back a bit.”

Wakatoshi shrugs, turning his head to the side but still facing the door with his body and Tooru can't see it well and is forced only to stare at his back.

“I am afraid I don't have a guest futon.

“What do you mean you don't have it?” Everybody has it. It is some kind of unspoken rule to have one - what if a guest comes like today? He can't possibly be sleeping on the couch every time someone comes to visit him, can he?

“I have never needed one. Nobody ever comes here.”

Tooru's eyes widen, mouth gaping open but no sound comes out even though he tries.

Before he knows it, Wakatoshi is out of the room and he is alone again; he stares at the door, not really knowing what to do. That damn little part of him is being joined by his common sense, and they're all telling him to get up and run after him to ask him to stay – it is his own house after all; he should be sleeping in his own bed and not on the couch and, well...

He doesn't find the strength in the end; today has been really shit even though it started good. Wakatoshi turned off the lights on his way out, so he doesn't even have to stand up to do it himself.

He lies down properly, his head finally comes in contact with the soft fabric of the pillow and his eyes shut, expecting darkness to come and take him into dreamland.

It should be darkness in front of him, and yet it is not.

_And, well..._

His memories aren't held back by any boundaries or presences now and explode in his mind like the most dangerous of bombs, and everything, every painful part of it, is just... Hajime.

“ _You make me sick.”_

And, well... He wanted Wakatoshi to stay even because of that. If he could focus on him, maybe he could deal with it until the next morning. And yet, he let him go out and there is no way he is going to get him back. He can't sink there just to be refused or even taken advantage of – he is not ready for that too. Even though Wakatoshi has never showed the want to do that.

So he sticks with it.

He rolls over in the futon, trying desperately to find a position which is going to be able to help him to fall asleep but he just can't. All the relax and comfort he managed to find in the bathtub and couch seems to be gone as soon as he was left on his own.

“ _You make me sick.”_

Hajime's voice rings in his ears like the loudest of bells. His eyes fly open and Hajime's face is right in front of them, embittered, disappointed, _angry_ ; and yet, still so indescribable and unknown it makes Tooru's chest hurt.

He knows he did something wrong. He should have told him everything, should have explained him everything before he got mad about the discovery he made on his own. But he failed at that, so badly - he even wanted to cover it up by returning the jacket to Wakatoshi on the day they should have met and God, was he wrong to think that.

He is an idiot.

He raises his hand slowly, moving it over his own cheek and then lowering it to his wounded lip. He winces slightly at the pain when he presses his fingertip against it and remembers Hajime yelling at him from the bottom of the stairs.

“ _Don't you even dare to follow me, understood?!”_

He remembers not following him.

He regrets not following him.

He should have, even if Hajime was- _is_ angry, even if he punched him once, twice... thrice more...

Tomorrow he is going to make up for it; he will go to school, find him and talk to him, explain everything ( _what is there to explain?_ ), apologize. Apologize countless times. And insist on it even he ignores him, even if he pushes him away, kicks him until he bleeds and screams and-

Even if he-

Tooru sucks in a breath, his eyes close again.

“Iwa-chan hates me...”

He brings both of his hands to cover his eyes, and finds wetness on his skin. He hadn't even realized he started to cry and now that it dawns on him, it doesn't stop anymore. He bursts and cries, without being able to stop. The pain the rain failed to wash away and that is unstoppable even by the highest dose of painkillers is overwhelming him and the lack of strength he currently is affected by is making him a victim.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

He rolls over for the umpteenth time, his hands now buried in his hair, pulling at his brown locks angrily, trying to replace the unbearable emotional pain with the physical one but it just _doesn't_ work.

It doesn't work.

His body gives out eventually.

“Iwa-chan.”

It grows limp and weak and he blesses the blanket wrapping it in the warmth it brings with itself.

“Iwa-chan...”

His hands fall onto the mattress.

“Hajime...”

He falls asleep eventually, with tears in his eyes, his best friend's name on his lips and with a last glint of hope to have a peaceful slumber.

***

“ _Iwa-chan, are you awake?”_

_The question is so usual and never unexpected. Tooru sits up, leaning his chin on the edge of the bed where Hajime is sleeping, facing him with his back._

“ _No.” The answer is a mumble, but in the silence of the room it is perfectly audible for Tooru._

“ _But you just answered me,” his voice is weak, trembling. A sniffle follows right after._

_Hajime knows he just woke up because of a nightmare; he knows, because he heard him crying and screaming and rolling around between the blankets until he jolted and awakened._

_Tooru watches as Hajime moves under the sheets, closer to the wall to make enough space for him. “Come on up.”_

_Despite the fear and the most horrible dream he has ever had, he crawls up next to him with the last bit of strength, pressing himself against his side. Hajime never says anything about it and instead wraps his arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer._

_Tooru falls asleep soon after, with no memory of the frightening feeling which hovered over his heart until just a while ago._

***

“ _Nee, Iwa-chan?”_

“ _What is it?”_

_It is the first day of their fourth year of grade school and they are both standing in front of the closed doors of the gym. Hajime is looking at him with a raised eyebrow and Tooru just smiles, taking a step to the side until their shoulders are bumping._

“ _Are you going to be_ my _spiker when I join the team?”_

_The question comes easy to him and is holding the most meaningful wish the setter has ever made. Because if he says yes, they are going to create a stronger bound than they have ever had. He watches as Hajime smiles, smiles brighter than he has ever seen him and his hand grabs Tooru's._

“ _Of course I am!”_

***

_The ball is received perfectly and flies right over him and he watches as it reaches his fingers._

“ _Over here!”_

_Hajime._

_He tosses it gracefully and it is perfect. It reaches the voice which called for it at the right height at the right speed and is hit just as perfect and strong and it brings them a point closer to victory._

_Tooru laughs, his eyes shine when he runs and reaches the spiker._

“ _You did it, Iwa-chan!”_

_Tooru feels a warm hand on his back when Hajime is finally next to him. “We did it.”_

***

“ _I want to go to Kitagawa Daiichi, Iwa-chan!” he tells him. Hajime raises his head, eyes moving away from the English sentences he is writing._

_Tooru just smiles. “They have a strong team and I really want to play there.” He stands up from his seat, opposite of Hajime and walks around it, crouching down until he is at the spiker's height and with an eager-looking expression on his face, he asks again: “Are you going to come with me?”_

_Hajime lays his pen down, eyes never leaving Tooru's and his mouth is pressed into a thin line without any words slipping out. Tooru feels his heart shake for the briefest of moments before Hajime finally nods._

“ _Of course.”_

_Tooru lets out a pleased shriek before throwing himself at him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and the strength of his jump is strong enough to make them fall onto their backs. They both laugh after that._

“ _We're going to be the best!”_

***

“ _Why can't we win, Iwa-chan?” Tears are flowing freely on the soft, pale skin of his cheek, his hands desperately clutch a volley ball he's been practicing his serves with._

_Hajime is next to him; for the first time in a long while, they are not facing each other. They just can't._

_It's the second time they lost while being just_ so _close to reach the top and go to Nationals. So close and yet, they couldn't even manage to get a set for themselves and have a chance to fight._

_Wakatoshi and Shiratorizawa would never let that happen._

“ _I thought I could make you the best, Iwa-chan. I'm so sorry,” Tooru whispers before the ball falls from his hand and he brings it on his face to wipe the salty drops away with his wrist._

“ _It's not your fault.”_

_Tooru cries harder and Hajime desperately tries to hold back, puts a hand on Tooru's back and then slides it up until he is gripping his shoulder. “It's not your fault.” His hold on him is tight, because he doesn't want to let him go and Tooru doesn't want to be let gone of._

_Tooru wonders whose fault it is, just for a while, until Hajime's lips are over his in the softest of contacts and his eyes are wide. He doesn't ask himself that again for a good amount of time and sleeps instead, as soon as the shock is replaced by a warm feeling on the spot where his heart is beating._

***

“ _Calm down, you idiot!”_

_Tooru's hand is centimeters away from the first-year's face, blue eyes watch in shock as the volley ball he held so close to his heart falls on the floor, bouncing away._

_Tooru can't believe he lost control like this... He almost hurt a teammate because he's a really good player? How could he be so-_

“ _I'm sorry.”_

_Kageyama, that's enough for today,” Hajime's voice is weak in his ears, he doesn't look at him, too ashamed of meeting Tobio's gaze after he almost hit him. He doesn't see when the expression on the young boy's face grows darker, full with disappointment and shock before he walks away without saying anything._

_Tooru remembers waking up that evening, Hajime's words echoing in the back of his mind and pulling him back to consciousness._

.

“ _With six people, the strong ones are even stronger!”_

***

“ _Iwa-chan...”_

_They kiss again, this time it feels hotter, messier but it feels right. Tooru pushes him down onto his futon gently, before crawling on top of him and taking off his shirt. It lands somewhere on the other side of the room, but none of them seems to care._

_His hand slides down to Hajime's chest and disappears in the waistband of his pants, and Hajime groans, back arching into his touch._

_Tooru will never forget the rest of that night._

***

“ _Oh, a genuine smile... How rare.”_

_Hajime's voice is calm and, for a moment, Tooru's smile widens, before he finally realizes the insult and turns around with a fake hurt expression. “How mean, Iwa-chan! My smile is always genuine and pure!”_

“ _Genuine and pure coming from your mouth already sounds impure,” Hajime tells him, but he is smiling. And Tooru doesn't get angry - he could never get angry at him. He only approaches him and hits him lightly on the shoulder and Hajime laughs._

 _They might have lost again, but this time he is returning home with his first set won against Shiratorizawa and a_ Best Setter Award _in his hands. He has never been happier, even though tears start falling from his eyes eventually._

“ _We'll definitely beat Ushiwaka in high school,” he says and it is a promise he intends to keep. Tears flow even more freely and now, even Hajime cries with him._

“ _Yeah, we definitely will.”_

_Hajime's is a promise too. He will bring his setter to victory and then he will see that smile once again when they're standing above Shiratorizawa with a trophy in their hands._

***

“ _Come to Shiratorizawa,”Wakatoshi tells him a week after the tournament's end._

_Tooru shakes his head without thinking twice._

“ _No.”_

_He walks away without saying anything else and Wakatoshi doesn't follow him._

***

“ _Iwa-chan, what are you doing here?” Tooru tries to look as collected as possible, even though fatigue is more than visible all over his face - but he can hold on for five more minutes until Hajime leaves and he is free to return to the locker rooms and go home. After one last serve._

“ _Don't you dare, Assikawa!” Hajime's voice echoes in the emty gym and Tooru gulps. In a breath, Hajime is in front of him. And then there is a kick in his ribs and the ball is taken away from his hands abruptly only to be thrown back into the cart. Tooru collapses. “Iwa-”_

“ _Stretch and let's go home.”_

“ _But-”_

“ _Do you want to hurt yourself again?!”_

_Tooru looks down and stretches the way he was ordered. He doesn't want to get hurt again, he doesn't want to see Hajime cry like he did the first night when he thought Tooru was sleeping, a brace around his knee for the first time and paler skin than usual._

***

“ _I'm sorry, Iwa-chan. I let you down again.”_

“ _You didn't. We were there all together; they were just stronger.”_

_Again._

***

“ _A-ah... Tooru-”_

_A kiss._

“ _Iwa-chan, it hurts, ah!” Hajime's lips meet Tooru's and calloused thumbs are immediately wiping away the small tears spilling out from the corner of his eyes. Hajime moves again, entering inside of him some more; slowly, gently._

_Tooru wraps his arms around him and feels those lips moving against his skin, whispering sweet, reassuring words in his ear and he finds himself forgetting all the pain, encircled by the warmth he learned to love as pleasure takes over._

“ _F-faster, Hajime!”_

***

“ _Tobio-chan's at Karasuno, Iwa-chan,” the words come out of his mouth before he is able to control them and order them to stay in. He watches the net and the cart with the stored volley balls and his heart clenches painfully in his chest._

_He feels Hajime's hand on his back. “You'll be fine.”_

“ _I have to get better.”_

_Or else he is going to be surpassed him._

_Hajime kisses his neck gently, wrapping his arms around him. “I'm going to win with you (_ for you _), Oikawa.”_

***

“ _I'm sorry, Oikawa,” Hajime whispers, settled between Tooru's legs and burying his face in his lap. He is covering himself with his arms, wanting so desperately to hide from those hazel eyes. And Tooru can't see him, but he knows he's crying. He can feel the wetness on the fabric of his sweatpants._

_His hand moves through Hajime's spiky locks and caresses gently._

“ _You wanted to go against him one last time, and I-”_

“ _You didn't fail me, Iwa-chan,” Tooru interrupts him before he can say it. He doesn't want to hear it, not after all the times the spiker told him a team is made of six people. He won't let him take the blame._

_Hajime hears none of it though._

“ _I did. I'm never enough to bring you where you deserve; just what kind of ace am I?”_

_Tooru tells him he is his ace._

.

“ _Oikawa, ah- I lo-”_

_Tooru kisses him hard, the heat of the moment too overwhelming for him to connect. Their hips meet again and Hajime groans and Tooru sees black when he finally reaches his peek and cums inside of him before collapsing on top of his chest, their lips meeting, and he passes out before he is able to hear what Hajime wants to say._

***

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

***

“ _What's wrong, Oikawa?”_

_It comes unexpected and just like he predicted,Tooru doesn't want it to. Because it is not something he can tell him without ending up hurting them both._

“ _Nothing's wrong, Iwa-chan. Why would it be?”_

_Just this once he wishes Hajime could not read through him, but he can't always get what he wants apparently. “Oikawa-”_

_Tooru shakes his head, wraps his arms around Hajime's neck and presses himself against him._

“ _Kiss me, Iwa-chan.”_

***

“ _Don't let me go, Iwa-chan.”_

“ _I won't.”_

***

“ _Iwa-chan...”_

_..._

“ _Iwa-chan?”_

_.._

“ _Hajime.”_

_._

“ _DON'T TOUCH ME!”_

_Tooru doesn't even realize when Hajime's hand comes in contact with his cheek and breaks his lip, until he finds himself losing his balance and desperately struggles with everything he has and has not to stay on his feet. It's hard, but despite his own damage, he manages._

“ _You make me sick.”_

_He kind of wishes didn't and fell instead, because those words feel like a much stronger blow._

_He can hear the shattering noise of Hajime's heart when he rushes out of the door and can also feel the shattering of his own when he follows him to the stairs and watches him dressing up as if he weren't even here._

_He wants to follow him and tape it all back together._

_But-_

“ _Don't you even dare to follow me, understood?!”_

***

“ _Iwa-chan, I-”_

“ _Don't call me that. Ever. Again.”_

_Tooru watches in disbelief._

_But doesn't let go._

_Hajime-_

“ _I hate you.”_

_Hajime forces his way out and away from him._

***

“Hajime.”

It slips from his lips when his eyes open and all he sees is the darkness he so longingly searched for before. He turns his head on the sides a couple of times, his body feeling too numb to sit up, and he looks for him, hoping everything was just a nightmare and nothing else. But he soon remembers he isn't at home; he isn't at Hajime's either.

Hajime isn't here.

He can't believe he thought he could be.

When he regains most of his breath, he forces himself into a sitting position, tries to forget about his screaming muscles and his hand moves on his forehead, wiping away the sweat. He misses the high temperature of his skin, but he's in no condition to realize.

He looks around some more, trying to remember everything and he does. He does.

His hand reaches out to his phone and he manages to press the main button so the screen lights up and his eyes are able to see the hour.

2:15 am.

Tooru struggles to accept that everything he managed to dream was fit into only a couple of hours of sleep. He feels his breathing growing heavy again as angst of the end of his nightmare pops on his mind again.

His throat starts to feel incredibly sore and he really needs to get rid of this thirst, so he pushes the covers off himself and gets out of the futon. Even his body is sore, the muscles of his legs are pulling with every move he makes as if he just returned from the roughest of practices, still exhausted and absolutely not satisfied by the low quality rest it got.

His knee hurts again, the effect of the painkillers disappeared before time and he almost collapses, holding back desperately a pained moan. He takes in a deep breath before moving forward and reach for the handle of the door. His hand finds the light switch next to it and soon the bedroom is illuminated for him to see.

He walks out, taking small, careful steps because he still doesn't know the place too well and his head isn't exactly bright enough to remember everything of it. But he remembers this hall and remembers where it leads to. He finds himself in front of the entrance soon and turns to get into the kitchen, so dark, but his eyes are now used to it and he sees it almost clearly.

He heads to the fridge and opens it. He grabs a bottle of water and then puts it on the counter before closing it carefully. He tries to be as quiet as possible when he moves around and looks around for a glass. He opens a couple of cupboards, but all he finds are plates and coffee mugs, and he curses for not looking at Wakatoshi when he was giving him water before.

“Are you looking for this?”

He gasps, turning to look on his side and Wakatoshi's there, in front of him, handing him the glass he is so desperately looking for. He takes it without saying a word, lays it on the counter and then pours the cool liquid in it until it is full.

“Something wrong, Oikawa?”

Tooru brings it to his lips, drinks everything down at once and when he puts the glass back down, satisfied, his eyes focus on Wakatoshi again. “No; everything's fine.” He forces out a smile, small and hopeful, but Wakatoshi doesn't seem to buy any of it.

“Does your leg hurt?”

Tooru slams his hand against the counter, loud and rough. Broken. “I said everything's fine!” Wakatoshi doesn't reply to that, doesn't even flinch at the aggressive move. All he does is stare quietly as Tooru crumbles in front of him, lowering his head and biting the healthy part of his bottom lip.

“Nothing's fine.”

Wakatoshi sees him down like this and he's not used to it, even though he was able to witness it last night as well, but still... It's not the way Tooru usually behaves around him, not even when he loses.

He takes a step closer, moving his hand on his shoulder and Tooru immediately looks up. Wakatoshi motions towards his room. “Let's get you back to bed. You need more rest,” he tells him and Tooru nods and follows him when he leads him out. As soon as they're in the hall, Wakatoshi slows down until he is at Tooru's side.

He never speaks, only breathes quietly.

When they are inside the room, Tooru immediately returns to the futon, walking past the spiker and brushing his shoulder against him slightly, and lowers down, and it's hard for him to bend his knee, but when Wakatoshi is about to get next to him to help him out, he lets himself fall and then pulls the covers over himself with a huff.

“Do you need anything?” Wakatoshi asks, sitting next to him.

Tooru's knee still hurts, even now that he is lying down. He shouldn't have gotten up, he knows that far too well from his past experiences. He wonders if it will go away by the next morning, even though he has never been so lucky for that to happen. “I need painkillers.”

“No.”

Tooru knows he took them only some hours ago and he shouldn't be taking anymore until the next morning, but there's no way he can handle this. He pouts, looking away from the spiker. “I won't be able to sleep if the pain doesn't stop.”

Wakatoshi shakes his head slightly. “You already took more than you should have even though I warned you not to. Try not to think about it.”

Tooru laughs dryly. “My, my, Ushiwaka-chan... You _really_ never injured yourself, did you? he says as he rolls on his back, covering his eyes with his arm, not really wanting to see the light anymore. He is not going to have anything of what he needs, so he should just focus on falling back asleep and hope his will is going to be enough.

“Let me see.”

Tooru doesn't even think about it and moves the covers away from it. Wakatoshi is immediately above him, big hands rolling up the sweatpants until the bandages are visible again. His fingers move over them and he quietly considers if it would be wise for him to remove them or not. But not having pressure would make it even more painful, so he opts for the second.

He slowly starts to give him a massage, gently but still strong enough for it to have effect on the muscles of his leg. Tooru sits up slowly, moves backwards until his head is leaned on the wall behind him. His eyes follow his movements, his body savors the once again gentleness that seems so uncharacteristic for someone like Wakatoshi.

The pain starts to lessen, turning into something more bearable, more pleasing...

His body slides forward, his head falls back onto the pillow and feels his consciousness slipping away for him.

Wakatoshi doesn't fail to notice it, of course, and he stops moving his hands, readjusting his pants properly again and putting the injured leg under the covers like every other part of him is and adjusts the blanket better over him before he retreats.

He doesn't get to stand up, because Tooru's hand comes out and grabs his wrist, holding him in place. “Thanks.”

Wakatoshi returns to his spot, gold eyes observe everything of the sight in front of him. “Do you need anything else? Can I return to the living room?”

“Stay.”

Wakatoshi blinks.

Tooru licks his lips, closing his eyes. “Stay here until morning,” he mumbles before he moves onto the side, reaching the edge of the futon, close to the wall, and makes Wakatoshi space to join him. He doesn't want to be alone, doesn't want the nightmares to fill his head and terrorize him in his sleep. He craves rest, and craves contact, even if Wakatoshi is the only one who can give it to him in this very moment. If he is left alone now, he doesn't know if he is going to be able to handle it.

Wakatoshi stands up, still without giving him an answer and Tooru feels a lump growing in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He doesn't watch him when he walks towards the door and switches the lights off. He doesn't want to watch him leave.

Then there is silence.

“Ushiwaka...chan?”

Is he gone?

And then finally, _finally_ the footsteps are coming closer once again, and when he feels his strong presence above him, shivers run down his spine and a weird feeling is born in his stomach. But it is not fear, nor tension; just... excitement? No, it isn't that strong and messy, though there definitely is some of it.

When Wakatoshi lies down, without touching him, but is here, next to him, he understands. It is relief.

Wakatoshi gives him his space as well, and Tooru could comfortably keep lying on his back, but he turns over to face the wall and gives his back to the spiker, who shifts as well.

So they lie, back against back, with only a couple of centimeters between them, which are still enough for them to feel each other's warmth. But to Tooru it's enough, enough to know he isn't alone - and even though he isn't Hajime, there's that weak feeling of comfort and safety he feels with him. It is weak, but it's there and it is going to be enough.

“Goodnight, Ushiwaka-chan,” he whispers, shifting slightly to adjust his arms and he accidentally brushes against the other and feels his cheeks heat up.

“Goodnight.”

Silence dawns upon them.

Tooru can't relax the way he wants, even though he got the company he wanted so much but it is not enough. He really needs to talk, to tell him. But why would he care? Wakatoshi must want him to separate from Hajime, because it'd be easier for him to get under his skin until he's his. Tooru knows what he wants, and he knows what he has to do to make Tooru crumble.

Maybe the confirmation of their broken relationship is all he wants to know and Tooru needs, wants to say it. Even if it's going to make it more real than it already is.

“I've had a fight with Iwa-chan.”

He swallows after that, closing his eyes and waiting.

No answer is given to his words and Tooru stops breathing. He waits for a whole minute, before he turns his head slightly. “Ushiwaka-chan, are you already asle-”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Tooru's instinctive reaction is to wrap his arms around himself and it seems natural, so natural Wakatoshi doesn't notice it. And Tooru doesn't know why he is saying it out loud right now - there will be plenty of time if he doesn't manage to fix it, but his words came out on their own. “I just needed to say it, I guess,” he whispers and it seems more real than Wakatoshi has ever heard him speak.

He rolls over, so he is lying on his back; gold eyes immediately find the setter but he doesn't move enough to touch him, even though their closeness wouldn't require much of a movement anyway.

When Tooru feels him turn around, he immediately curls into a ball, bringing his legs to his chest and burying his face into them. All of a sudden, he feels so cold. Just like before.

“I've been such an idiot; I still am. I didn't tell him anything of what happened between us, that we-” He doesn't finish the sentence, because Wakatoshi can figure it out. Then Tooru takes in a deep breath and, after a couple of seconds, resumes talking. “He found your jacket in my wardrobe and everything turned into such a mess after that.” His voice cracks at the end, but he doesn't break, doesn't let the tears accompany it.

It is not the right moment for that. He already cried enough when he wasn't supposed to.

“Is he responsible for the cut on your lip?” Wakatoshi asks all of a sudden; Tooru's eyes widen for a split second, before they narrow and the setter raises his hand to touch the wound once more.

“I don't even know how it happened.” He still wants to believe it was because of the constant chewing he put the sensitive skin through and not because of the slap. He wants to believe it, even if he knows it is not true.

He listens to Wakatoshi's soft breathing and then hears a sigh.

“I am sorry.”

Tooru's eyes widen and this time they stay like that.

That tone of voice... So sincere and truthful it is almost creepy; it rings in his ears, gets into his brain and impresses itself into his memory for him to never forget. He turns around, hazel eyes searching for that impassible face and he finds it looking just the way he imagined it for that brief second.

“Are you apologizing for what _we_ did?” Tooru makes sure to emphasize the plural pronoun. Wakatoshi might have started it, but he also agreed on it and, despite he wants to put all the blame on him, he was in there too. So, blame it on his injuries, or on everything he owes him for the help he gave him (and still is), Tooru just can't put everything on him.

He turns around completely, still lying on his size, but this time he's fully facing the spiker. Could it be that he is regretting it? Tooru wonders why the only thought of it stings. He should be happy about it, shouldn't he? So why-

“No.”

Wakatoshi doesn't move, gold is still fixed on him even though he doesn't move and Tooru stops breathing. “Wh-”

“I am sorry it ended like this for you, Oikawa. But I do not regret having sex with you that night.”

Tooru blinks.

_Oh._

His mouth opens but, as no sound comes out, it closes again and he lets himself fall back onto the futon and looks away from that stare.

They don't speak for a while and Toru starts to feel cold, _so fucking cold_ he feels his whole body trembling. He grits his teeth, desperately trying to hide it.

But Wakatoshi sees. He always sees when he tries not to let him.

And he can't help but find it weird, because they are lying under a rather heavy blanket and, to make it even warmer, there is two of them in a limited amount of space which should be used by one person only, and Wakatoshi can't help but feel confused.

“Are you feeling cold, Oikawa?”

He observes as the setter tenses, still looking everywhere but him. “A bit.” From the way it looks, it is much more than just a bit, Wakatoshi figures. He moves closer to him, and Tooru is finally looking up, grabs the blanket and pulls it up on the other's body until it reaches his ears. Then he adjusts it so he is sure it won't lower too much if the other moves and when he's done, he pats his shoulder gently, just to be sure he is still awake. “Better?”

Tooru nods and, although Wakatoshi can't see it - _and_ _thank God he can't see it -_ smiles.

Wakatoshi's hand moves into his hair, giving him one last caress before he pulls away and reduces their brief contact to zero. “Try to get some sleep now,” he tells him as he turns on his side like before and Tooru closes his eyes with the last thing he sees being the spiker's back.

Wakatoshi settles comfortably against his pillow and follows soon after.

***

Half an hour passes by and Tooru moves forward, the warmth of the spiker attracting him with the ability to make the cold go away - the heavy blanket isn't enough after all. Hazel eyes open ever so slightly before he falls into temptation and buries his face in the space between Wakatoshi's shoulder blades. He doesn't know how he lowered so much under the covers to reach them - maybe it is because he is still clutched as much as his body allows him, but he doesn't bring himself to care.

His hands move in front of him and his fingers intertwine themselves in the cotton of Wakatoshi's shirt, right over his ribs and for a moment Tooru lets them move over the hard muscles under it, just to make sure this is real and not another soon-to-be nightmare.

He is somehow glad to know he is not going to turn into one and his eyes flutter close for the last time and he inhales, his body shivering after the spiker's scent surrounds him and his soft breathing lulls him to the kind of sleep he needs, this time peaceful and quiet.

He doesn't let go of him though, only grips tighter.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I sure didn't expect to update this so fast, but today's my last day of vacation and I wanted to get some work done before school starts again. God, how I don't want it to.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter; I don't really have much to say about it except that I really liked writing it, especially the final part and I really can't wait to get onto the next chapter because I have a couple of nice ideas that could suit it just fine.
> 
> Thank you in advance to all the Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks. I can't believe so many people like this. <3


	7. Sleep Away the Sickness and Wait Until I'm Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'll be going then.”
> 
> Silence dawns upon the gym and Tsutomi drops the ball he's holding. “Ushijima-senpai?”
> 
> Kenjirō walks up to the spiker, a confused look on his face as well. “Ushijima-san, you never left so early. Is something wrong?” They've been on the same team for many years and Wakatoshi's definitely been acting strange today – first he talked to Iwaizumi Hajime in the morning, then he kept checking his phone a couple of times when they were together (he never pulls it out of his bag when he's at school, not that any of them notices – but it's be hard, since he's always in company of at least one member of the team) and now he wants to leave practice one hour before the end of the regular practice hours and three hours before he leaves usually.

When Wakatoshi opens his eyes, he immediately glances up at the window. It's still rather dark outside, even though it's the clouds that make it look earlier than it actually is.

It's 6.00 am, Wakatoshi knows. He's always had some kind of clock in the back of his mind that has set up an alarm, which wakes him up at the precise hour, every day, no matter if there is school or practice or even nothing he's supposed to do. It just happens and, after that, he just isn't able to find a way to fall back asleep no matter how hard he tries.

However, he usually feels less sleepy than this. _'Maybe it's because of the_ weather,' he thinks. The dark clouds from last night seem to have retired a bit, though it's still cloudy and looks cold as well, but there is definitely more light now.

He blinks a couple of times, trying to send away the last bits of sleepiness away so he can get up and start his usual routine. When his consciousness is completely back though, he's finally able to focus on his surroundings and it's only then that he notices an unfamiliar warmth spreading over his back and legs in an unknown and yet rather comfortable way.

He moves his hand on his side to push the covers off his body and winces slightly when his elbow suddenly comes in contact with something, which seems to be gripping on his shirt – so that's why he's feeling the cloth pulling against his skin. He raises an eyebrow and moves his arm back so his hand gets to it and, after touching it slowly and trying to figure what it could be, he realizes it's a hand.

He turns his head to look behind himself, being careful not to move too much and finds Tooru lying against him, his forehead pressed between his shoulder blades and his hands clutching gently on the white cotton. He moves his thumb against the one he's already holding, before slowly wrapping his fingers around it and removing it gently from his ribs.

He's careful when turning around, not wanting to wake up the setter or worse, crush his left hand with his weight, and when he manages to roll over and they're finally face to face, Tooru moves forward. His hands move now on the front of his shirt for the lack of contact caused by the shifting and grab the fabric tighter this time.

Wakatoshi doesn't do anything to prevent it; instead he observes the features and peaceful expression on Tooru's face and he realizes it's actually the first time he's ever had the chance to see him from such a short distance. He moves brown bangs away from his forehead, exposing his closed eyes, and stiffens ever so slightly when Tooru leans into the touch.

He observes his long eyelashes and thin eyebrows before he lets the locks go and they go back down to cover part of them. But it doesn't matter, since most of it is still visible.

Tooru pulls on him as soon as he's not touching him anymore and Wakatoshi believes he's going to wake up, but as that doesn't happen, he decides to explore a little more of him now that he has the opportunity. His hand slides down his neck and shoulder, stopping only for a couple of seconds to feel his pulse, which arouses a new feeling in the depth of his stomach, but he shakes it off, only to move down his arm until he finds his exposed wrist. He gently presses on it, until the setter releases his grip on him for the second time, and then brings it closer to have a look at his hand.

The hand of _the_ setter.

It is more than obvious he takes good care of them, Wakatoshi figures as he turns it around slowly a couple of times, eying its details from every side. His fingers are long and slender, but still strong enough to toss the ball so high up in the air or to perform that fearful service ace even he has trouble receiving at times. His skin is extremely soft to the touch on the back, but there are calluses on every tip of his fingers, formed after long hours of holding, tossing and hitting the ball. Still, they're not as defined or hard as the ones of a spiker.

Wakatoshi can feel the difference.

But still, he finds them beautiful. He always has.

And now that he's finally able to touch every part of them - every finger, every knuckle, _everything_ , Wakatoshi can't help but think about how much he wants them to toss to him and to play for him and him _only_.

His own hands are much bigger and stronger and have never ever failed him during a game, but Wakatoshi wants to look at, to touch these; so flawless and perfect he'd kiss them all day long if only Tooru accepted to be his and let him. He's wanted him for so long he can't even recall when it all started.

Gold eyes switch from them to Tooru's face every now and then, only to make sure he won't get caught, because if it happens, Tooru will never let him hear the end of it and could even get mad at him for touching him without his explicit permission – and there's been more than enough resentment on the setter's part for Wakatoshi to let any more get in his way.

Wakatoshi must admit he likes it though, _this_ – touching him, discovering those tiny details he's never had the chance to even see without being abruptly pushed away or being yelled at or having to renounce at it because of some kind of stupid excuse. The only way to make it better would be if Tooru were awake and observing his movements, just to see and understand his desire and therefore to fulfill wishes and needs that came to exist during all this time. It'd be just perfect, with those hazel eyes looking at him peacefully and not with all the hate and anger he's been victim of until just a couple of weeks ago.

It might be hard for him to believe it for the setter, but Wakatoshi never meant to hurt him.

He kept asking him to join him over and over, but he just didn't want to.

Wakatshi's hand returns on his cheek, moves his bangs away from his face once again and he doesn't know why, but he finds himself with lips curved up into a small smile. He's fairly certain he likes Tooru. He's been certain of it for a while now.

All of a sudden, Tooru moves, a small whimper escaping his mouth before his body starts to tremble. Wakatoshi blinks a couple of times, before figuring he probably moved the covers off his body a bit too much, so he lets go of him, slips out of the futon and then adjusts the covers up to the other's neck like he did the night before, before standing up.

He walks to his wardrobe, opens it and pulls out a pair of Shiratorizawa gym pants and a black, matching, short-sleeved t-shirt. He changes his clothes quickly and when he's done, he glances at the setter one last time before exiting the room.

He walks into the kitchen, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and puts it out so it warms up a little – he doesn't like to drink cold stuff. Then, he goes to the bathroom to refresh himself and when he's finally ready, he reaches the entrance door. He slips on his sneakers and gets out, locking the house behind himself and then slipping the keys into his pocket.

The humidity is something he doesn't like and frankly, this morning there's too much of it for his taste – it seems it's going to rain again later – but his morning run is something he'll never skip, unless there's a hailstorm of course.

He likes to be out this early, when no one – except a few busy office workers who need to be in the office by eight – is awake and outside, but today is different from the others and he decides to go for a smaller lap unlike he does usually; he wouldn't want Tooru to wake up alone and find himself to be locked inside the house. He'd most likely accuse him of wanting to kidnap him or who knows what when he only wants him to be safe.

As he runs, sweat starts to form on his skin and it happens quite early because of the weather, so he'll need to get in the shower as soon as he's back. But his body seems to be fine like it always is – even though he went out for a walk yesterday and didn't manage to get back home before it started to rain. At least his umbrella was big enough to make him stay dry.

.

Half an hour goes by and he's slowly reaching his house again. He slows down and comes to a stop when he's finally in front of the small gate.

He enters the house, closes the door and listens.

There is dead silence around him.

So Tooru isn't awake yet.

Wakatoshi sighs and then heads to the bathroom, where he strips out of his clothes and heads to the shower. He turns on the water and steps in without waiting for it to get warm. His muscles tense when cold water hits his skin, but when the temperature changes, he throws his head back, letting out a quiet sigh and stays that way for a while, until he has enough and starts to wash himself slowly. Since he didn't spend an entire hour outside, he can allow himself to stay in a while longer and it feels good.

When finished, he steps out, grabs a couple of towels and uses one to wipe himself dry and the other one he wraps around his hips before returning to his room. The first thing that catches his eye is the small mountain the blanket on the bed has become. He raises an eyebrow and walks to it.

The only thing he can spot is a couple of strands of hair coming from under it, but Tooru's face is hidden as well as the rest of his body under a cocoon-like shelter he created himself to sleep inside of. Wakatoshi can't help but find it amusing, before he shakes his head slightly and returns to his closet so he can dress up.

He pulls out his school uniform and wears it, being careful to adjust it neatly and properly like he does everyday. Then he approaches Tooru again, bends towards him until he's able to reach him and immediately pulls away the blanket from his head and when he exposes his face, he moves to touch his neck and slides to his half-exposed shoulder to shake him awake.

However he doesn't fail to notice the slight trembling in his body when he removes the cover further.

It crosses his mind, when it doesn't stop neither when the setter's body should already be adjusted to the change of temperature, that Tooru might not be feeling well. His hand this time travels to his forehead and he has his confirm when he finds hot – too hot, sweaty skin.

He shakes him harder this time. “Oikawa, wake up.” At that, Tooru shifts, trying to pull away from him and lets out a long, dissatisfied moan before turning around completely and giving the spiker his back. But Wakatoshi is more than determined to have him awake to see how he is before he takes any measure. “Oikawa.” Finally, Tooru opens his eyes slowly and grunts at the little bit of light coming through the window – it may be cloudy, but it's still too bright for his taste – before turning his head and, at the sight of Wakatoshi, remembering where he is. He blinks a couple of times, trying to make the last bit of his brain connect and then he sighs.

“Morning,” he mutters, bringing his arm over his eyes because he just can't take it.

Wakatoshi nods in acknowledgment, forgetting he can't be seen like this and then turns towards the door. “Stay like this; It seems you managed to catch\ a flu last night. Let me bring you a thermometer, I'll be right back.” Before Tooru is even able to register half of his words, he's already out of the room.

“Flu?” Tooru watches him leave, not bothered anymore by the faint brightness.

In less than a couple of minutes, Wakatoshi is back, the small object in his right hand which is immediately handed to Tooru. “Measure your temperature.”

It seems to finally dawn on Tooru what's happening and he immediately shakes his head. “I don't need to. I don't have a flu; in fact I feel perfectly fine, Ushiwaka-chan. I breathe normally and I'm not even coughing.” To prove his point, he sits up, but the abrupt action causes his head to spin and he gasps, immediately bringing both of his hands to grab his head, hoping for it to be enough to stop the ache.

Now Wakatoshi crouches down, as it's easier to be on the same height as Tooru like this. “Are you alright?”

Hazel eyes meet gold and Wakatoshi can't help but notice how weak he the look he's receiving is, so unfocused and empty it almost doesn't look like it belongs to Tooru. He's almost tempted to touch him to see if he's strong enough to hold up, because right now he looks ready to collapse with only a touch of his finger.

“I'm fine... I just sat up too fast,” comes the answer soon after his question, and it's too soon. Tooru knows it's too soon, and as hard as it is to admit it, he's not feeling all that well after all. He uses his arms as a leverage to shift and stand up, but he feels them weak and renounces before he even manages to remove the warm blanket from his body completely. He's going to try in a couple of minutes, he's still too sleepy – or that's what he tells himself to make it better.

The thermometer is soon under his nose and he winces slightly – _'Ushiwaka-chan really doesn't want to give up, does he?'_ But he tells himself he's fine, so he grabs the item, even though there is hesitance at first and he's reluctant to look at him, as if he could read through him like he did last night.

He needs to get to school today, needs to find Hajime.

It's been painful as hell, resisting from calling him last night, but he was in horrible conditions and even if he tried, Hajime was so, _so_ mad he wouldn't even have answered his phone. Tooru's most certain about it, even though Hajime's never gotten like this with him. But he knows... He knows.

It makes the lump in his throat grow impossibly more and it's suddenly hard to breathe. The pain in his head sure isn't helping him out.

He observes the small object in his hand for a brief moment, until he decides to get on with it, because as soon as he's done and proven Wakatoshi he's fine, he can leave and get back home, where he can get ready for school in peace. He's got a long day ahead.

He raises his arm, adjusts the thermometer under his armpit before lowering it and stilling. Only then he turns his head to the side and finds Wakatoshi standing above him, arms crossed over his chest and gold watching over him – waiting.

Tooru scoffs. “You don't have to stare, I know how to measure my temperature,” he tells him, but Wakatoshi doesn't answer – he just wants to make sure he won't cheat.

After a little while, Tooru finally decides to check the result, but he doesn't even have the time to look at the small red line that Wakatoshi speaks: “Let me see.” Automatically Tooru tightens his grip on it and rolls his eyes. “Are you my mom, Ushiwaka-chan?” As he says it, he looks at the item.

He clicks with his tongue.

Wakatoshi blinks.

“I'm perfectly fine! There's nothing shown here!” The exclamation is accompanied with a smile, clearly forced from Wakatoshi's point of view. There's been a slight high pitch at the beginning of the sentence, he is sure of it. He stretches his hand until it's next to the setter.

“Give it to me.”

If he's fine, there shouldn't be any problems to show him, right?

Tooru snorts, irritated. But Wakatoshi won't give up until he has his way with what he wants – he should know that more than anyone else. He hands him what he wants and his hand doesn't even reach the spiker's, that the latter has already grabbed it and is eying him.

Gold eyes are fixed on it for a split second and then they're on Tooru again.

Tooru registers neatly at thirty-eight and a half degrees and, even though he should be buried under the covers, he's sitting on the futon, the loose shirt exposing his collarbones as his arms are crossed over his chest, head turned away, but not enough to hide the trademarking pout of his.

Wakatoshi doesn't scold him, lays the thermometer on the desk before taking a step forward. “Lie down. You'll stay here for today.”

Tooru snaps, head turning to face him so fast that, for a moment, Wakatoshi thinks it's going to fall off.

“No! Absolutely not. I have school!”

“You're staying here.” And he hopes to be done with this conversation, because he doesn't want to fight with him over something so insignificant – especially because he's right.

Tooru doesn't give him the satisfaction.

“I said I'm fine! It's just a bit of fever! I can just put on some more clothes – I still have a winter uniform, you know!”

Wakatoshi sighs heavily. He has no choice.

He bends over him, putting only a short distance between their faces and glares at him coldly. “I said you are staying here. You are not getting out of this house in these conditions until I return, am I clear?”

Tooru's eyes widen. The tone of his voice is making him freeze. He swallows hard, keeping their eyes locked for a good minute, before snorting again and looking away. He lets himself fall back on the futon and doesn't move when Wakatoshi covers him again before he leaves the room and leaves him alone.

He walks into the kitchen, decides to prepare breakfast for both of them – Tooru must eat something warm, but still easily digestible. He opts to prepare him rice and miso soup and as it cooks, he also slices him an apple and makes him juice from the oranges his uncle has brought him the other day.

Everything's ready in a little more than ten minutes and Wakatoshi puts all of it on a tray after quickly eating his portion – he's not used to eat this quick, but just this once he can make an exception. He then looks around to see if there's something he forgot and finds the box of painkillers next to the sink – if Tooru's leg hurts, he might want to take them.

Now that everything's here, he takes everything and brings it back to his bedroom, where Tooru is still lying the way he left him and is mumbling something in a low voice.

He doesn't pay attention to it and instead puts the tray on the desk and then approaches the setter, who still doesn't seem to have realized he's back.

“I also brought you some painkillers to take after breakfast.”

Tooru winces. He really didn't realize when he got back. “What?”

“I said I brought you painkillers, if you need them that is. How's your leg?”

Tooru blinks a couple of times. “Oh! Uhm...” He glances at his leg before shaking his head slightly. “I don't think I'll need them if I'm going to stay hom- here. But leave them on the desk... In case I need them later.”

Wakatoshi nods. “Good. I'll be leaving now.”

Only then Tooru seems to remember. “School! I need to call and let the teachers know I'm not going to come,” he tells him and immediately starts to look under the covers for his phone. Wakatoshi puts his hand on his shoulder to stop him. “I'll take care of it. You eat what I brought you and then get back to bed, alright?”

Tooru sighs and then nods. He stands up slowly, trying not to get himself an even stronger headache and heads first to the bathroom. Wakatoshi watches him until he's out of the room and has closed the door.

He then glances down to the messy futon and spots the phone Tooru was so desperately looking for before and takes it up. He lets his eyes linger on it for a moment before he presses the main button and the screen lights up. He decides to unlock it but raises an eyebrow when he finds out he needs a password to do so. His first thought is a simple number sequence, like 1234 or something of the sort and he's tempted to try it out; but then – it's Tooru. He's not that much of a fool to put something so easy to guess.

No.

He is _obvious_. To those who know how his mind works.

Wakatoshi muses over it for a short while before he gets it. “0104...” he mumbles, pressing the numbers shown on the screen and the phone is unlocked as soon as he digits the last one. He needs a number from there, therefore he goes to the address book and looks for it, scrolling down the long list of names.

And then he finds it.

He pulls out his own phone from his pocket, quickly copying it and when he's done, he puts the setter's phone down between the sheets so he can find it as soon as he lies down.

As soon as he straightens up, the door of the room opens again and Tooru is back, walking clumsily towards him – he isn't a morning person it seems. He doesn't bother to return to the futon and instead sits on the floor at the desk where Wakatoshi set the meal.

“Thank you for the food,” Tooru says quietly before grabbing the chopsticks next to the bowl of rice and starting to eat. Wakatoshi doesn't know much about people or how to read them, but the expression on Tooru's face shows his satisfaction with what he prepared. He definitely likes it, just like the night before, even though it's just a couple of simple dishes everyone is capable of doing.

When he eats more than half of what was brought to him, Wakatoshi considers his duty done, so he's finally able to get out of the house and head to school. “Well then, I shall be going. When you're finished here, return to bed, alright?” His voice immediately makes Tooru turn to look at him and, as he's still chewing on what's in his mouth, he only nods in approval before Wakatoshi grabs his schoolbag next to the door, puts it over his shoulder and exits after muttering a quiet “see you later.”

When outside of the house, Wakatoshi considers if he should lock the door or not, but then he decides for the first option – he can't be sure Tooru won't try something foolish like going to school or God knows what else.

Then he turns around and gets on the street. He pulls out his phone from his pocket and finds the number he stole from the setter's phone. He presses the call button and brings his hand to his ear.

The voice on the other end comes after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Is this Iwaizumi?”

There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line, but Wakatoshi knows he didn't hang up because he hears a gasp and then breathing.

“Ushiwa- Ushijima?” Hajime swallows. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Wakatoshi says. “I called you to tell you Oikawa won't be coming to school today. Can you let his teacher know?” He hears a startled noise as soon as he pronounces the words. “What? Oikawa's not coming? Why?” A pause. “Did something happen to him?”

Wakatoshi listens to the endless questions, wondering whether he should answer to them or not, but in the end he answers only to the last one. “He has caught a flu and he's supposed to rest. So, are you going to let his teacher know?”

Hajime hesitates, interrupted by the answer, but then he says yes. “Of course, I'll do it. But how do you know about Oikawa? And how did you even get my number?” And then Hajime asks him, and Wakatoshi, despite not knowing him too well on a personal level, can perfectly hear the mix of concern and anger in the tone of his voice. “Why is it you that's calling me and not him?”

Wakatoshi sighs. Shouldn't at least this be obvious?

“After what happened between the two of you, I thought you wouldn't want to talk to him, and therefore you wouldn't have answered to his call.”

“And WHAT would _you_ know about that?”

Wakatoshi ignores the menacing tone and keeps walking calmly. And then he spots Kenjirō coming towards him. “Good morning, Ushijima-san,” he greets him when he's in front of him and he's about to say something else, but when he sees Wakatoshi's talking on the phone, he shuts up and settles with walking by his side for now.

Wakatoshi glances at him and then hears Hajime calling him.

“I'm sorry, but I must end the call now. Thank you for the favor.”

“Wait-”

The line breaks and the spiker immediately puts his phone back in his pocket after putting it in silent mode so he can ignore the upcoming call from the other boy.

“It's rare to see you on the phone; who were you talking to?”

Wakatoshi looks forward. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“You mean Seijō's ace?”

“Yes.”

***

After breakfast, Tooru feels pleasingly full and crawls back under the covers and lies down on the pillow, letting out a sigh. He's glad it's just some fever and not a common cold – at least his nose isn't full or dripping and he can breathe easily. If he rests properly, he'll be able to return to school tomorrow.

His eyes flutter shut and sleep overcomes him after just a short while.

.

He sleeps for an hour and a half.

When he wakes up, he feels slightly better, but the covers and the warmth of the bed feel so incredibly good against his body he considers it outrageous to stand up.

When he rolls over on his side, he finds his phone and the reaction is immediate: he grabs it and immediately digits Hajime's number, which he learned by heart so long ago. He presses the call button, brings it to his ear and waits.

Hajime doesn't answer though.

And then he remembers he might be in class, so he most likely isn't answering for that. And a good part of it could be for last night; in any case, he's going to try again later, during the lunch break or in between the various classes.

He'll just rest and wait for that time to come.

Being the person he is, however, he soon gets sick of it as boredom comes to him – he's never been the type to be able to just lie in bed for the whole day, not even at times when he was burning with the highest of fevers and stuck with the most bothersome colds. He sits up, pushes the covers away and ignores the shiver running down his spine.

He stands up and finally takes the opportunity to examine Wakatoshi's room, since yesterday he didn't want him to notice this curiosity of his. He walks to the shelf with his prizes once again, observes them and can't help but wish he was able to get more as well. Except for this one particular shelf, the rest of his room is rather... _Empty_.

It isn't a matter of furniture, because Tooru doesn't have much more than him; maybe it's because it's larger or... Maybe it's because there aren't many personal effects – Tooru doesn't see any photos of him or his friends; he holds his team's ones on his shelves: there is one of Kitagawa Daiichi and one of Aobajousai. But Wakatoshi has none. Neither of his previous team, nor of his current one.

It's kind of... sad?

Except for the outstanding number of prizes for his age, the only things that show Wakatoshi's relation with volleyball are a ball he holds in the corner of the room, the magazines and the DVD-s. Tooru must admit he's flattered when he sees his own games between all the strong teams on the shelf, but he kind of gets irritated when he imagines what Wakatoshi might have thought while watching him. Something like “if he were with me, this would've been better.” But still... At least he follows him as much as he does with him. If Tooru wasn't still holding up his grudges, he'd find it endearing.

He checks the hour once more, decides he's definitely going to call Hajime during lunch break – that way, they'll have more time to talk if he actually answers – and there's still plenty of time to wait. Tooru licks his lips.

He might have a look at one of those games.

He raises his hand up, grabs one of the boxes from the middle and checks the teams' names.

“Fukurodani vs. Shiratorizawa, huh?”

Oh well, this could even be interesting. Tooru's had an eye for Fukurodani's ace for a while – he was actually one of the main reasons he wanted to go to Tokyo, as he seems like an easy player to handle. He's always been amused when reading some of his interviews and has always wished to play with him, or at least against him, for once.

Hazel eyes glance at the PC on Wakatoshi's desk, but he immediately eliminates the idea of turning it on – it's really not his place to look at, even though, once again, it'd sure be interesting to see if he holds any kind of porn material in there; but then, if he didn't find anything in his room, the odds to find something inside there is even less of a probability.

He grabs the blanket from the futon and drags it to the living room, where he first puts the DVD to play and then throws himself onto the soft cushions on the couch. He takes a hold of the remote control and starts the video.

The game starts and he immediately spots the white-haired captain of the other team and God, he's amazing. However, Wakatoshi is playing extremely well himself. As the game went on and both of the teams warmed up, it gets even more exciting for Tooru to watch.

He sets his phone alarm to ring at one pm and then enjoys the plays he so longed to see every year when his team failed to go to Nationals.

Except for the two spikers, who were outstanding that day, Tooru watches the setters. He always watches the setters.

He already knows about Kenjir _ō_ ; he's a good setter, not as exceptional as Tobio or himself, but that never mattered for Wakatoshi's spike, always so strong, even if the tosses aren't as perfect as Tooru's could be. Fukurodani's setter, though, is different – he's never seen something like that, so passive and yet perfect for Koutarou.

Tooru doubts he could do better for him; he sure doesn't know anything much about him, but still the way he plays, the way he interacts with his teammates is just... similar to Hajime and him in some way and yet also so different. Irreplaceable.

But still-

He wants to at least meet him. To see what he's like in person.

And then Wakatoshi is spiking again, through all of the blocks and defense the others are trying to put against him. And Tooru hates to admit it every single time he thinks about it, so even now... He's absolutely stunning. It makes shivers run down his spine to even think a spiker like him wants him to be on his side.

Shiratorizawa won in the end.

Tooru licks his lips. This is the way he always wanted to play, the place he always wanted to bring his team to.

Then his phone rings and he blinks; he takes it in his hand and sees the hour; he turns off the alarm and then puts in Hajime's number and calls. He waits, waits for a good minute but no answer is given and he has no choice but to end the call.

He sighs.

A text should do, at least until he finally finds him so they can talk face to face. He thinks carefully before he starts to type – it's like he's getting ready to walk on thin ice that could just shatter with one wrong step and make him end up in deeper shit than he already is.

“ _Iwa-chan... Hi. I really want to talk to you, to explain to you all of... this.”_ As he types, he stands up from where he's sitting and starts to walk up and down around the couch. He's too nervous. _“I need to see you. Please, call me or text me or whatever you want, just... I'm so sorry for everything, Hajime. So please... Answer me.”_ He hesitates to send it, but it's this or nothing, even if this is completely different from their usual conversations.

He presses the button and then lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

He walks to the DVD player, pulls out the CD of the game and puts it away in its box. He then returns to Wakatoshi's bedroom to look for something else to pass the time with. He feels chills running on his skin and since the fever is still there and his collar bones are exposed (and why is he only realizing it fully now that the spiker isn't here? It's odd, because he felt awfully comfortable like this when he was), he concludes he should look for something in the wardrobe to put over the too large t-shirt he's wearing.

His eyes immediately start to look around as soon as he opens it. His hands push the hangers around so he can see what is there until he spots a black hoodie which seems to be just what he needs. He pulls it out carefully and wears it, immediately letting out a sigh at the sudden warmth encircling him.

His eyes travel downwards and his breath hitches in his throat when he sees a purple shade coming from the bottom of the closet. He crouches down and immediately goes to grab it (he just can't hold back) and when it's outside, his eyes don't miss the black number one printed on it.

He swallows.

Wakatoshi's jersey.

Unconsciously, instead of laying it back where it was, Tooru opens it and observes it curiously... The shirt that was worn at his every loss, that made him curse all the colors it contains and go through endless nightmares. He puts it on his legs gently, before running his hands over it, feeling the fabric – it's a different material from his own shirt; it seems lighter – and tracing all the black prints with his fingers.

Just why the hell is there a voice in the back of his mind that's telling him to try it on?

He looks for the shorts and finds out they were hidden under the cloth he already pulled out.

And it's inevitable.

The image of himself with those colors on his body, trophies in his hands and victory all around him appears in his mind and it's overwhelming; so overwhelming he feels his throat running dry and closes his eyes, cursing his daring imagination and the thoughts he forbid himself to think a long time ago.

This was never the way he wanted to be.

He never chose it for too many reasons, so he tells himself not to regret it. It isn't worth to regret it.

He shakes his head and sucks in a breath, before he folds the shirt neatly, just the way it was when he pulled it out and puts it back in its place, before standing up and closing the wardrobe doors.

He shouldn't be thinking about it and instead should look for something else to occupy his mind now that he's warm again.

He returns to the shelf with the DVD-s and looks for something else to watch. He reads the names of the teams on the side of the box before he stops at a familiar couple that brings back every memory he doesn't want to see.

Aobajōsai vs. Shiratorizawa.

He looks at the date and it's the last game they played against each other, in the finals of the Interhigh. His hand starts to tremble, before he finally licks his lip and decides to take it. He returns to his previous position in the living room and lies down on the cushions, tangling his long limbs with the covers and wrapping his arms around himself and observing the serve, his own serve, that makes the game begin.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check if Hajime answered, but there are still no new messages so he just gives up on it – there's nothing much he can do after all.

It hasn't been long since this game, and Tooru still remembers every part of it, every action that failed to bring them points and every action that let Wakatoshi's spike through. It angers him to no end to watch it and if he had to answer why he wanted to watch it, he'd probably lie instead of telling he just wants a reason to hold his grudges up. Especially after last night.

“ _You need to rest, Oikawa.”_

It's stronger than him, the hate isn't where it should be and the fever is taking advantage of it and it's making his eyelids heavy and his muscles sore.

He falls asleep before the first half of the first set.

***

“I'll be going then.”

Silence dawns upon the gym and Tsutomi drops the ball he's holding. “Ushijima-senpai?”

Kenjirō walks up to the spiker, a confused look on his face as well. “Ushijima-san, you never left so early. Is something wrong?” They've been on the same team for many years and Wakatoshi's definitely been acting strange today – first he talked to Iwaizumi Hajime in the morning, then he kept checking his phone a couple of times when they were together (he never pulls it out of his bag when he's at school, not that any of them notices – but it's be hard, since he's always in company of at least one member of the team) and now he wants to leave practice one hour before the end of the regular practice hours and three hours before he leaves usually.

Wakatoshi looks down at him and shrugs.

“I have a commitment,” is all he says before turning on his heel and heading to the locker rooms.

None of them dares to follow him.

His glare's been enough.

***

He comes home half an hour later, opens the door and flinches slightly when he sees no light coming from anywhere in the house. He puts his bag down next to the door – he'll take it up to his room later – and slides off his shoes before he heads to the kitchen.

He finds it extremely clean, just the way he left it this morning and then goes to his bedroom. There, he finds the messy, futon, which is lacking of a blanket, and the empty plates he brought to the setter in the morning. He takes it back to the kitchen and leaves the dirty dishes in the sink with the intent to wash them later.

There's still no trace of Tooru though. Could it be that he left in those conditions? He shakes his head; it wouldn't be possible since he locked the door.

He walks into the living room, finds the TV screen illuminated, but there's nothing on and reaches it, pulling out the DVD he recognizes as soon as his eyes lie on it. Only then he turns around and sighs in relief.

Tooru is sprawled over the couch, surrounded by that missing blanket and all the cushions he was able to gather under and around his upper body without making them fall all over the place, and it seems he's been sleeping soundly for a while now and didn't notice his presence at all. Wakatoshi puts away the CD he's holding and then turns of the light in the room. Tooru doesn't wake up this time either, so he walks closer to him, lowers down and observes his face. Peaceful and serene, very much similar to how it was this morning. Maybe it's more relaxed now.

The reason he came home so early... He raises his hand, putting it gently onto the setter's face. His thumb caresses the skin under his eye, before he moves to his forehead.

Tooru mumbles something, and hazel eyes open slightly, meeting gold before anything else.

“I'm back, Oikawa.”

Tooru stretches slightly, before turning on his side so his body is facing Wakatoshi. “Hi...” he mumbles and closes his eyes, letting out a tired sigh as if the sleep he had until now wasn't enough. Wakatoshi removes his hand from him and stands up.

“The fever seems to have lowered, but you should still check it out. I'll bring you the thermometer.” He leaves the living room before waiting for a reply. He's back a minute later and Tooru is still in the same position, his arms hugging a cushion tightly.

Wakatoshi doesn't fail to notice the black hoodie he's wearing this time. He must have felt cold – he should have given it to him last night perhaps. He hands the item to him. “Here you go.”

Tooru opens his eyes again, blinks a couple of times and then takes it, adjusting it immediately under his armpit. Wakatoshi glances at the clock hanging on the wall, to see when they have to check it and Tooru notices it. “What time is it?”

“Six o' clock in the afternoon.”

Tooru grimaces, trying to figure if he heard right, before he brings his free hand to rob his eyes. “Aren't you supposed to be at practice?” The third years may have retired, but Wakatoshi doesn't really seem the type to skip practice, especially now that the finals are over.

Wakatoshi moves his gaze away from the clock and back to meet the other boy. “I stayed only a little more than an hour.”

“Why?” Regular practice usually lasts from two to three hours and Wakatoshi's strength surely didn't come out without some extra hours a day, just like it's been with Tooru's serve.

So he doesn't understand.

“I had to come back and check on you.”

Tooru sits up, gives him an 'are you kidding me?' look. “What? Why would you do that? I can take care of myself just fine,” he tells him. “Besides, I slept the whole day and I'm feeling much better now.” He pushes the covers off himself to prove his point.

Wakatoshi wants to reply to that. Being capable of taking care of himself doesn't include running for more than an hour under the rain, insist on wanting to go home even though he's burning and refusing to eat when he has clearly used all the energy he has managed to store within his body. He decides it's better to stay quiet though.

“I know.” That should do it. “What did you eat for lunch?”

“I told you I slept the whole day, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi sighs. So much about being capable to take care of himself. But he expected it, if he has to be honest – that's why he came home so early. He knows him well enough.

“Let me see the result and then I'll cook you something,” he says, reaching out with his hand and Tooru gives it to him without even thinking about looking at it himself. Wakatoshi takes it, brushing the tips of his fingers against the setter's hands and then looks at the result.

“37.5,” he tells him. “It's much lower than before, but it's still here.”

Tooru's eyes brighten all of a sudden, the realization of him finally being able to return to his own home, in his warm bed – not that he's missing anything here... but he doesn't have any of his things with him – finally dawns upon him and makes him look better than he is. He isn't ready to run, to practice or whatever, but he's fine.

And he might not be perfectly comfortable with admitting it, but it's also thanks to Wakatoshi.

“I want to go home.”

Wakatoshi blinks, but Tooru is looking at him and there's no hesitation in his eyes now, which means he heard everything right. He's so determined this time and it'd be useless for him to even try to stop him – it'd make him angry and it's not good for his condition – the fever he got was because of the stress and restlessness and not because it's a flu; he had plenty of everything he needed, so this time it's fine.

“Very well then.”

Tooru stands up at those words and the spiker makes him space to move freely.

“I'll walk you. Just to make sure.”

Tooru doesn't try to stop him, that would be useless too. “Okay. Can we leave then?” he asks eagerly and when Wakatoshi nods, they head to the door, where they both put on their shoes and then go out. Tooru expects a light chill to hit him once the cool air comes in contact with his body, but the hoodie he took from Wakatoshi protects him from it. From all of it. He turns his head to look at Wakatoshi, who's now walking by his side, eyes fixed forward and no words coming out of his mouth.

He observes him closely now that he has the chance to – last night he was too tired for that and now he seems to be looking much more readable. Why the hell does he have a weird feeling in his chest when he watches, stares... Admires.

His gaze moves away when Wakatoshi turns his head to his side.

“Is there something wrong?”

Tooru shakes his head. “Not at all.”

He watches him again as soon as gold looks elsewhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here's another update for you :)
> 
> I'm sorry if I'm not able to update more frequently, but building up this story really takes lots of time and now, since the end of the school year is getting closer, I'm extremely stressed and under pressure, also full of homework, that I don't have lots of time to dedicate to writing.
> 
> Anyway... I was really excited for this chapter, since it's the first one where I put some of Ushijima's point of view. Once again, I see him as a much softer person when it comes to Tooru, but still caapable of pressing and have his own way when absolutely necessary.  
> I particularly liked writing the part where he observes his hand; after all, he had the perfect chance and that part of Tooru is the one that made him want him by his side, so I hope you appreciate it.
> 
> I wanted also to mention some more of Bokuto-kun in here and Oikawa watching a match where he plays is the best opportunity for me right here.  
> The next chapter will be more dynamic, as this one is mostly static.
> 
> *
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks and I hope you keep following this until the end (which I still don't see coming XD) 
> 
> :)


	8. I'm Barely Standing Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru knows he's going to regret this, but he does owe him and, the sooner their tab is closed, the faster he's going to be able to let it all go and return to normality, that peaceful normality where he feels safe. But he still curses himself, when the words come out of his mouth without him giving them the necessary permission.
> 
> “Are you coming in or what?”
> 
> Wakatoshi doesn't say anything and Tooru pouts, waving his hand. “I'm not repeating it,” and with that he opens the gate and walks in the courtyard. It shouldn't be a surprise, knowing what Wakatoshi's always wanted from him and how he behaves in his company, when it's him who closes the door, but Tooru is still surprised, because Ushijima Wakatoshi is going to be at his house, inside his house, in less than a minute.

Tooru has never thought about the possibility of walking down a more than familiar street along with a completely unfamiliar person by his side. Sure, he's known Wakatoshi for a long time, but it's always been something limited and exclusive for the volleyball court; he's always been his rival, the only one he wants so badly to beat (well, there is Tobio too, but his case is more of a fear of being surpassed than a sick desire to mop the floor with him after destroying him with everything he has).

And yet, after all the work he has put himself through, all the injuries he has brought upon himself and all the rage that has filled his chest whenever Wakatoshi has been mentioned around, he is now resigned to the fact that he owes him more than one.

He didn't expect it though... _This._

Sure, he can't believe that of all people he could have possibly met last night, it just had to be him. But then, he went running in the countryside, so in the end, it couldn't have been anyone else.

And yet, in the cloudy and desperate back of his mind, something was telling him, leading him just there and nowhere else and now he's coming back _with him_ , who walks silently on his left side but at a respectable distance, more than enough for Tooru to feel comfortable within his own space. But he can feel that intense gold watching him, looking through him all the time.

When they reach the area where Tooru's house is though, Wakatoshi falls back a couple of steps and Tooru stops, turning around immediately. “What is it?”

Wakatoshi blinks and Tooru understands the answer without him answering his question. He's standing back for Tooru to lead him. After all, Wakatoshi's never been anywhere near his home (or maybe he has, he just didn't know who it belonged to) – how could he just _forget_ about that?

Wakatoshi looks at him, head tilted on his side ever so slightly, and waits until Tooru turns around. “Let's go.”

He resumes walking and his steps are rather fast and decisive but he can hear Wakatoshi close behind him, not faltering either once. He can't say it isn't weird and all of a sudden all the things the spiker told him _so many times_ in the past are sinking in and he can't believe he's letting them do as they please.

His throat is slowly running dry and he can't be thankful more than he is when they finally turn the corner and come into his street before reaching his house after a forty-minute walk.

They stop at the front gate – it is Wakatoshi who stops once again, and Tooru doesn't know why but does the same and gives him a confused look. But then, Wakatoshi's job is done – he told him he'd accompany him and here they are.

And yet...

Tooru feels like something's missing.

He's not Iwa-chan, therefore it's not _something_ he considers himself familiar with – _something_ being... this kind of thing between the two of them. He shouldn't be falling into any kind of temptation, because he's supposed to hate him, but in the end Tooru knows that, if he goes in like this, with or without a simple goodbye, it'd gain him an unfinished and incomplete feeling in his gut – no matter how much he tells himself it'd be better like that.

He needs, wants Hajime back. No one else but him.

_And yet-_

“ _Let me see your leg.”_

“ _Eat.”_

“ _You need to rest.”_

And yet it's not the way it's supposed to be. Nothing has been for the past few days.

Tooru knows he's going to regret this, but he _does_ owe him and, the sooner their tab is closed, the faster he's going to be able to let it all go and return to normality, that peaceful normality where he feels safe. But he still curses himself, when the words come out of his mouth without him giving them the necessary permission.

“Are you coming in or what?”

Wakatoshi doesn't say anything and Tooru pouts, waving his hand. “I'm not repeating it,” and with that he opens the gate and walks in the courtyard. It shouldn't be a surprise, knowing what Wakatoshi's always wanted from him and how he behaves in his company, when it's him who closes the door, but Tooru is still surprised, because Ushijima Wakatoshi is going to be at his house, _inside his house_ , in less than a minute.

Tooru remembers leaving the door unlocked last night, so they're free to go in without him looking around for his keys – which he didn't bring along anyway.

“You didn't lock up,” Wakatoshi states as a matter of fact and Tooru scowls, because the tone of his voice is screaming “irresponsible” all over the place. “Nope.”

“How irr-”

“Now now, Ushiwaka-chan. I didn't invite you in for you to mother me around,” Tooru interrupts him before he snaps. He turns around to face him and crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you want to eat for dinner?”

Wakatoshi tilts his head slightly, not quite understanding. “Dinner?”

Tooru snorts. “Yeah, dinner. You know when people, at a certain time of the evening, sit at a table and eat?” Why is he making him say more than he wants to? He doesn't want to look like he cares, like he's grateful. Because there is no reason to be now, is there?

“Why?”

There's every reason he could possibly think of, of course.

“I invited you in because I owe you and I intend to settle this tonight,” he explains loud and clear and then, without waiting for an answer, heads to the kitchen. It only takes a step for his entire body to freeze and it happens when his eyes land on the counter, still full of bags and food Hajime brought last night and that they were supposed to eat together.

Wakatoshi finds him like that when he follows him and his immediate reaction is to follow his gaze to see what's bothering him so much. He doesn't understand why that food seems to have shocked him like this.

One thing's sure though.

“If you don't put those things in the fridge, you can as well throw them away. Are they here since last night?”

Tooru seems to wake up from his daze only when he speaks, but doesn't look at him and instead walks to the mess and with shaky hands starts to divide all the contents of the plastic bags. Wakatoshi is by his side almost immediately and his hands move to grab a bag to himself. He starts to dig in, pulling everything out.

He flinches ever so slightly when he pulls out the fifth package of milk bread and puts it on the counter before staring at it with curiosity. “Why is there so much of this?”

Hazel eyes look up at him and then at the items he's questioning and a smile immediately makes its way on his face. “Because it's the best thing in the world,” he tells him as a matter of fact and Wakatoshi shrugs – he takes a mental note on that; he should get some for the next time Tooru comes to his place. The thought of the possibility of that not happening ever again doesn't even cross his mind.

Tooru finishes to put everything away in silence but leaves out some meat and vegetables; Wakatoshi can spot onion, carrots, zucchini and- Tooru stands in front of him, blocking his view, but it's only a brief moment because he's immediately moving past him to one of the cupboards and pulling out a pan, a pot, a knife and a chopping board.

Wakatoshi watches him set everything down and decides to take a few steps backwards and lean on the solid wooden surface of the dining table, so Tooru can have more space to move around.

Gold eyes focus on him, mouth close in a thin line – not a frown – and silence falls upon them.

Tooru fills the pot with water and puts it on the stove and then grabs the meat, which he starts to cut in small pieces. He feels Wakatoshi observing every single move he makes, but he tries not to let it get to him, despite the warmth he feels rushing to his cheeks. He tells himself to get it together.

When the meat is all cut and ready, he puts it in a bowl and then decides to take care of the vegetables. He grabs the onion and hopes with all his might he isn't going to tear up – he just can't let Wakatoshi see him like that; heck, he never cuts onion himself and instead lets Hajime take care of it, just to avoid to be seen a little bit out of his normal, flawless state (not that he's ever been perfect for Hajime; he always sees all of him).

He cleans it up slowly and when he hears Wakatoshi take a step forward until he's only a couple of steps away from his back, his breath hitches in his throat. He can feel his presence all around himself; he's close, deducting from the faintest feeling of his breathing against his exposed neck.

Just what is he doing?

He tightens his grip on the knife and starts cutting, but his mind is focusing on everything else but that. He feels his right hand shaking slightly and then it's all a blur and then-

“Fuck!”

The next thing he sees is red coming out of his index finger and it takes him a good amount of seconds to realize he just ended up with a cut on it. He instinctively brings it to his mouth, ready to lick the bitterness away, but his wrist is caught before it gets close to his lips.

“Let me see.”

He didn't even realize Wakatoshi shifted from his previous position and is now by his side once again. Tooru struggles against the strong grip. “It's nothing. Let me go,” he tells him but Wakatoshi doesn't seem to want to listen so Tooru just tells himself to calm down, does it and watches gold stare at red.

There's a weird expression on his face – not because he's frowning or glaring or doing anything in particular... Tooru doesn't really know how to explain it. The way he's looking at his hand is just... different.

If Tooru didn't know him, he'd suspect it's worry, but Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn't get to such low levels just to feel such pitiful feelings.

_Right?_

He feels his blood starting to run down his finger, making the cut look worse than it is and Wakatoshi's hold is not that strong anymore, so he just sighs and pulls away. “Give me a moment.”

He turns on his heel and heads to the bathroom where his mother keeps bandages and disinfectant. He first washes away the overflowing liquid with cold water, then proceeds to apply the disinfectant and he can't help but hiss at the uncomfortable burn it sends from the tip of his finger to the rest of his hand.

He doesn't like pain.

It probably seems ironic, since he always insists on practicing until he injures himself, to the point it hurts so badly he's forced to stuff himself with painkillers of all kinds. _“Are you some kind of masochist?”_ Hajime has asked him once. Tooru told him he isn't, but at this point, seeing what he's letting Wakatoshi do to him, what he did to Hajime... He's slowly starting to doubt his answer.

He carefully wraps a bandage around the wounded finger and doesn't understand why the back of his mind, still that damn part of it that let Wakatoshi come in, is picturing the said wing spiker doing it instead. He shakes his head not to think about it.

He glances at himself in the mirror, tells himself it's nothing and then heads back to the kitchen.

Wakatoshi is just where he left him; the only thing is that he's finishing what he started – the onion from before is already cut in small pieces and his hands and knife are already working on a spring onion now. This isn't what it's supposed to be.

“Hey! I'm the one supposed to cook!” Tooru raises his voice, making his way to the counter, ready to steal the knife from the other. He's supposed to cook and get this done. He must not owe him anything anymore after tonight, otherwise he's going to always be trapped by those boundaries and the longer it lasts the danger of the back of his mind to take charge is bigger.

“You'd better not touch the knife anymore for tonight, Oikawa,” Wakatoshi tells him, not even bothering to look to his side or to dodge Tooru's hand who's about to reach him. Sure, Tooru's standing on his right side and Wakatoshi is left handed, so stealing it from that position isn't actually safe. For neither of them.

“You can do the rest; the water's boiling.”

Tooru snorts but eventually does what his implied suggestion means. He grabs the rice and, after putting some salt in the hot water, he puts in some, which is more than enough for two portions. In the meantime Wakatoshi takes care of browning the onions with the oil, all while flouring the meat and then putting it in the frying pan.

Tooru loses track of his actions when he starts to clean the carrots and zucchini that Wakatoshi takes possession of as soon as they leave the setter's hands and cuts them into pieces as well and then adds to the rest.

The smell of the stew reaches Tooru's nostrils and just by that he can tell it's going to taste incredible, like the food Wakatoshi prepared him for today's breakfast and last night's dinner. Damn him and his talents.

Then he's moving to the fridge, hazel eyes never leave his body, opens it and looks around. Tooru's about to ask him what he's about to do, if he needs something in particular, but Wakatoshi is turning around less than half a minute later with a bottle of vine in his hand.

Tooru raises an eyebrow.

It is clear to him what it is for when Wakatoshi opens it and pours some of it in the food – Tooru remembers his mother doing it a couple of times, to add to the complex of the taste.

Tooru decides it's enough of him staring at him without doing nothing, so he opts for setting the table and when the food is ready, he helps Wakatoshi fill the various plates with everything before they both sit down.

“Thank you for the food,” Tooru says quietly before taking his bowl of rice and putting the first bite in his mouth.

He was right with his predictions, of course.

He keeps his eyes low, not really sure if he wants that sight in front of him; sure, they've already eaten together last night, but it wasn't here, in Tooru's kitchen, where he's usually always comfortable because it's either his mother or Hajime cooking and staying with him.

Now it's a completely different story though.

There's been a lot between them in the last couple of weeks, but Wakatoshi's acting so naturally and normally, which is the exact opposite of what Tooru's head feels like, the way he hates how he's making him feel and be around him, when he's so... so-

It dawns on him after ten minutes.

Silence.

They have never really talked outside the few insults on Tooru's part and a few “you should come to Shiratorizawa” on Wakatoshi's and it shouldn't be surprising when there is no exchange of words between them now that there's none of those thoughts to be put out in the light.

There is silence between him and Hajime as well, at times... It's comfortable and a situation when they just know words aren't necessary. When Tooru has been injured, when Hajime cried, when they both lost with their team... None of those moments were lived through words. They were never needed for them, not when they both know the way they are, the way they act and what it is that they needs even before they can voice it, and it's always been natural and comfortable. Tooru can't believe he's losing all of it.

But _this_ is comfortable as well.

He can't believe a part of him is thinking it could become a replacement in a possible future. Hajime _can't_  and _won't_ be replaced, that should be clear to him.

And yet.

It isn't intimate, but there's no tension either. Tooru feels surprisingly at ease, shoulders relaxed and lungs taking breath in and letting it out at a slow, peaceful pace that could almost lull him to sleep if he wasn't eating or just being in the kitchen.

Wakatoshi's presence is somehow reassuring, especially because if he was alone, his thoughts would be filled with regrets, his own accusations of being weak, emptiness of the missing piece where Hajime should be and lots of doubts about Wakatoshi and the way he's making his way through his defenses with the quietness of his every action.

Tooru doesn't know why he's thinking about it. Maybe it's still some fever, maybe it's because he still owes him.

He'd like him to stay tonight.

And just the thought of it feels wrong.

Or does it?

Why doesn't he say something though? Everything would be fine, just to make the babbling mess in his head stop. _'Please.'_

“Oikawa.”

Hazel eyes widen and it takes him all the strength he possibly can gather not to drop his chopsticks and bowl. “Yeah?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

Tooru blinks. _What?_

Wakatoshi's gaze is burning him, and he feels every part of his body melting under it. “I... I don't know what you're talking about.”

Wakatoshi lowers his bowl, but still keeps it in his hand. “You called me on Sunday and we agreed to meet today. I understood from the way you talked that you needed to say something important to me. Or am I wrong?”

Tooru regrets ever wishing for him to talk. Of all things he could have said, he just had to bring this up right now?

A shiver runs down his spine, his tongue slips out to lick his dried lips, it lingers a bit longer on the cut of his bottom lip and then he looks away. Damn Wakatoshi and his too brutally honest questions at the worst time he could have possibly chosen.

Tooru keeps his eyes away for a good couple of minutes, this time the silence between them is full of tension and yet...

Hazel meets gold again (Tooru wonders if it's always been so bright or is it just the light of the kitchen that's making it like this) and Tooru is more than sure that what he wanted to say, the way he wanted to refuse him, isn't what should happen right now. He can't bring himself to do it and he doesn't know why – isn't he supposed to hate him? Why does it seems he's letting go of everything after an evening of damn good sex and a night where he was treated like a king even after all the mean things he has said to him in the past.

“I wanted to refuse your offer, coming to Tokyo with you and all the other... _things_.”

Tooru understands he just made a huge mistake.

“You want _ed_? Does this mean that something has changed your mind perhaps?”

Tooru just stares at him wordlessly.

“What is it?” Wakatoshi breaks his line of thoughts and Tooru lets out a breath he doesn't know he was holding.

“Nothing.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

Tooru snorts, turns his head away and Wakatoshi swears he can spot a pout. He raises an eyebrow, eyes still fixed on him. “Oikawa-”

“I don't know, okay?!”

A quiet whine escapes the setter's lips before he crosses his arms over his chest. “Everything was going just fine! I had already decided,” because Iwa-chan is Iwa-chan and there's absolutely nowhere he wants to be without him, “but then Iwa-chan...”

Then Hajime found out about everything.

What if he never wants to see him again after this? No... Hajime wouldn't want that after all these years. It's going to be fine, like it always has... Right?

The memory of that pained expression makes his chest sting uncomfortably, no- painfully.

“And now you-”

It can't all be wrong.

Wakatoshi sighs. He understands. “You're not sure if refusing _me_ is the right choice _this time_.”

Tooru bites his lip, hates that it all sounds so true in his head, and decides not to reply to that. Wakatoshi doesn't ask anything after he gets his confirm – once again he has managed to hit the right spot.

The rest of dinner is spent in silence too and when all their plates are empty, Tooru stands up, ready to put everything into the sink so he can wash it before going to sleep. Wakatoshi stands up too, ready to give him a hand, but Tooru won't have any of it. He's already done more than enough and seeing he doesn't seem to want to listen to any of his requests about not doing it, Tooru opts for something else.

“Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Don't call me that.”

Tooru rolls his eyes – he's been calling him like this for the whole time they have known each other, especially last night and this morning and he's complaining about it _now_?

“Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi doesn't look annoyed at all, gives him his attention and waits. Tooru puts his part of the dishes in the sink and pours some water on them so the stains of the food won't get dry.

“There's a game I want to watch. Go and turn on the TV and keeps track of the score. Let me finish here and then I'll join you.”

Wakatoshi gives him a small nod before exiting the kitchen and heading into the living room. He finds the remote control on the coffee table, turns the device on and doesn't even have to look for the right channel because it seems Tooru's been watching it the last time it was on.

“Japan and Iran, huh?” he mutters quietly before making himself comfortable on the couch. This one could be interesting – how come he has forgotten about it? Someone from his team _did_ mention it a couple of days ago, but it must have slipped off his mind.

The game has already started and at the moment Iran's in the lead, even though the gap isn't too wide.

“How's it going?”

Wakatoshi turns his head to the side and finds Tooru walking in with a tray in his hands, two cups placed neatly on it. He approaches him and puts everything on the coffee table and Wakatoshi immediately feels a familiar smell of green tea. Tooru sits down as well, on the other side of the couch, and doesn't bother to look at Wakatoshi.

He pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, leaning his chin on top. His eyes focus on the screen and as the game continues Tooru grows silent and focused while Wakatoshi just observes his calm stillness from time to time; the way he studies both teams – it doesn't take a genius to know he's watching those setters in awe.

Wakatoshi knows he wants to be there someday and also knows what it's like. He's been playing in Japan's under 18 team and faced lots of foreigners. It's completely different from regular high school competitions, and winning is much much harder.

“Our setter is amazing,” Tooru mumbles after a while and Wakatoshi blinks, then looks at the screen. He is good indeed, the spikers respond well to his tosses, but-

“You could do better.”

Tooru winces and looks to his side, eyes widening for a moment after processing what has just been said to him. He blinks a couple of times before snorting and returning to his previous position. “And how can you possibly know that?”

Wakatoshi grabs his cup of tea, brings it to his lips and takes a sip – it's still too hot to drink normally. But it doesn't matter.

“I have already told you, Oikawa. I've watched your games and I played against you quite a few times, therefore I know what you're capable of. I also believe I told you _quite a few times_ it's a shame you've never had the chance to bring it out.”

They both know what's implied in that sentence, so he doesn't need to add anything else.

And it's the first time Tooru says nothing about it, only lowers his head and covers it with his arms, the game already forgotten and a whole new mess destroying his thoughts in the back of his mind. He's glad Wakatoshi doesn't speak after that – even someone like him must understand when it's not the time to speak.

Tooru feels him shifting closer to him, just a little bit – almost imperceptible – but still... His warmth is closer than it was just a moment ago.

.

Iran wins in the end, but it is to be expected as they're currently the strongest team in Asia and fortunately it was just a practice match for fun. Nothing more.

Tooru stretches and then stands up from the couch, bending to pick up the now empty cups of tea. “Do you want more?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head slightly. “No, I should be taking my leave now.”

Tooru raises an eyebrow and then glances at the clock. It's already way past nine in the evening and they have school tomorrow -Tooru hopes he's going to feel better in the morning, because he really needs to be at his full strength. “Okay then.”

He watches as Wakatoshi stands up, eyes fixed on his own.

Tooru swallows hard.

“I-I'll take these in the kitchen.”

“Alright.”

Tooru does what he has announced, walks into the kitchen and puts everything in the sink. Then he leans on the counter, takes in a deep breath. He can do this, he's about to leave and they probably won't see each other until he makes a decision and decides to meet up with him to tell him his answer.

Now he needs to get it together and accompany him out.

He inhales.

His hands are trembling.

He exhales.

Then he gets out.

He finds Wakatoshi sitting on the stair in front of the entrance, putting on his shoes and facing him with his back. He licks his lips and then takes a few steps forward to reach him – he still doesn't get too close.

And then Wakatoshi is standing up, his figure stiff and posture correct. Tooru sees him tuning around, hazel eyes widen when he takes a step towards him. He gulps. “What is it? Did you forget something?” He unconsciously takes a step back as the spiker gets closer.

“I'll be taking my leave now,” he mumbles, but he doesn't turn to go for the door.

Tooru moves to the side, his shoulder comes in contact with the wall next him and his breath hitches in his throat when their chests are only a few centimeters apart. He feels the warm breath of the other touching his lips and all the warning he gets after that is the way Wakatoshi's eyes flicker for a brief instant onto Tooru's lips.

And then Tooru can't breathe for entirely different reasons.

At first it is a gentle brush of lips and Tooru's first reaction is to put his hand on the other's shoulder, trying to move him away, but Wakatoshi only grabs his wrist, which makes him step back and make his back come in contact with the wall while Wakatoshi takes the last step he can and presses himself against him.

Tooru's eyes flutter close, but he can't bring himself to kiss him back, even when Wakatoshi's tongue is brushing against his bottom lip.

Wakatoshi pulls away at that, gold eyes searching for his and Tooru looks at him. What he sees is an expression that's asking his permission to continue and a funny feeling is born in the lower part of his stomach. Wakatoshi's hand is still on his wrist, the hold gentle and painless and feels nothing like a trap.

Wakatoshi's thumb runs over the bandage of Tooru's finger and the latter sighs quietly.

And Wakatoshi gets close again, but there is no contact other than his hold. Hazel eyes watch him, that warm gold, so piercing and yet so comforting that Tooru just doesn't find the strength to get away from it.

It is stronger than him.

His eyes look at those lips and the overwhelming want, _need_ to kiss him makes him lose control. In an instant, Tooru smashes their lips together and grips Wakatoshi's shirt with his free hand and pulls back, slamming himself against the cold, hard surface and pulling Wakatoshi to hover all over him.

Wakatoshi lets go of his wrist, his hands instead place themselves on the setter's shoulders, holding him in place as he works his lips over him, tongue begging him to open his mouth and Tooru does this time, with a low grunt. It is an instant and he feels his mouth full of Wakatoshi's taste, dominating him like that first time.

His mind goes blank.

He feels Wakatoshi's hands sliding down his body, brushing his ribcage and then his stomach, making shivers run over his skin at the ticklish sensation but it doesn't ruin the composure of his body.

He lets out a small moan in the other's mouth when calloused fingers raise both the hoodie and t-shirt he's wearing and come in contact with his skin, exploring every bit of it and slowly making their way up. It is then that Tooru pulls away to breathe, but Wakatoshi doesn't seem to willing to let go of him – if the teeth nibbling and pulling on his bottom lip are anything of a sign.

Tooru feels his clothes being raised up more and more with every second and all of a sudden, those fingers are rubbing gently on his nipples and he hisses, throwing his head back and breaking contact between their lips once more. Wakatoshi takes his chance to assault his throat, his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. The feeling is strong, but Tooru knows it won't leave a mark for the next morning. It'll disappear when he lets it rest over the night. But still...

It feels amazing.

Having Wakatoshi touching him like this; the way his fingers pinch a hardened nub, the way his other hand travels down his body to the waistband of his pants and plays with it and the way his mouth is worshiping every sensitive spot of his neck... It's making him crazy.

“F-fuck...”

It comes out as a quiet whisper, buried between low grunts and a gasps, but Wakatoshi is too close not to hear it. And his reaction is immediate, his hips rut against Tooru's and it's more than enough for the latter to feel the growing hardness in the spiker's pants.

His own hands move from Wakatoshi's shoulders to his chest, pulling him closer, _so deliciously_ closer as he parts his legs to allow him to stand between them – he moans when his thigh comes in contact with his crotch and his hips grind into it without him being able to control them.

He doesn't know why he's letting him do it – he shouldn't be. _He shouldn't be_.

“Ahn! Ushi-”

He's silenced with another kiss and the whimper he gives into it when Wakatoshi's hand finally slips into his boxers and grabs his half-hard cock makes Wakatoshi smirk ever so slightly, but enough for Tooru to feel it against hot skin.

And all the restrains he thought he'd be able to put up to his growing crave vanish into nothingness. His hands roam over the spiker and he finds himself cursing the clothing standing in his way and preventing him from feeling hard muscle over a perfectly well-built body – he moves his hand down as well, reaches his pants and tucks his fingers in.

Wakatoshi is hard – he can feel it through his boxer briefs and he decides to play with him a little. He touches him slowly, doesn't come in direct contact with his length but that is more than enough to feel the spreading heat coming from it and the way a little bit of precum is wetting the thin fabric separating them.

Tooru can feel his own moans escaping him. Wakatoshi's moving his hand at a steady pace, his grip tight on him, but not enough to hurt him and God, it feels so good. He feels Wakatoshi's hips moving against his hand and his own hips are betraying him and moving against Wakatoshi's too. He feels him pulling the hoodie he's wearing so he exposes a part of his shoulder and his lips are already there to grace the newly exposed skin with their touch.

Tooru's never felt these kind of sensations before, the way he's feeling like he's going to explode if Wakatoshi doesn't give him more, the way his legs are threatening to give out any moment and how his back is being slammed to the wall every time he moves forward looking for more friction...

It's something no one else has ever given him.

None of the girls he used to date.

Nor the few boys he gave a chance to in the past.

And Iwa-chan...

His eyes snap open, and he freezes.

Hajime.

Just _what the hell_ is he doing?

“U-ushi...Ngh! Wait.”

Wakatoshi doesn't seem to hear him and he realizes he whispered it so quietly he almost barely heard it himself. His eyes flutter close for the briefest of seconds when Wakatoshi's thumb brushes over the slit over his leaking cock and the only way to stop him is to stop himself first.

Tooru pulls his hand away out of Wakatoshi's pants and the man growls, annoyed by the interruption, pressing his body against Tooru's and pressing the setter's back impossibly more against the wall.

“ _Ushijima._ ”

He feels teeth digging into his flesh and it takes everything he has not to let his eyes roll back in his head and let himself fall into that warmth that's making him slip away. “Stop. Don't... _Please, stop._ ”

And Wakatoshi freezes when the setter's hand places itself in his hair.

He hears him exhale against his neck as his face is buried in it.

And then he's breathing.

They're both breathing.

Wakatoshi's hips are moving slowly against Tooru's, but the movements are ceasing until it all comes to a stop. It is painful, for both of them... Tooru can tell – he's never seen Wakatoshi so messed up in front of him, but it's kind of reassuring. _This._ That he'll stop when asked, no matter how hard it might be.

The spiker doesn't raise up his head for Tooru to see his face and Tooru can't bring himself to push him away. He's so hard in his pants he could explode any second – and he believes it's the same for Wakatoshi too, but he can't let it happen, can't let them reach their peek, because _this isn't right_.

This isn't right.

Wakatoshi kisses the mark he has just left on him, runs his tongue over it and pulls out his hand from Tooru's boxers. Tooru hisses at the lack of contact – he wasn't able to cum either after all, and the missing contact is rather painful to bear - and leans his chin to rest on the broad shoulder of the spiker. He takes in deep breaths, his hands move up and wrap themselves around his torso and it feels nice.

It's more than nice, being like this with him.

It's so, _so_ familiar that Tooru only wants to sink down on the floor along with him and spend the night like this.

But it isn't right.

He tilts his head to the side, leaning it on Wakatoshi's and sighs quietly. “Ushiw- _Ushijima_.”

Wakatoshi finally pulls away and Tooru can't believe all the mess he was looking, feeling like until now is gone. He's perfectly balanced, quiet and there's no sign of lust on his face – though there is want; pure, genuine want for the man that Oikawa Tooru is.

Tooru blinks a couple of times, trying to calm down his arousal and only when he's completely sure his legs aren't going to give out, he pushes against the other gently, inviting him to take a step back – and he does without complaints, luckily.

They look at each other, Wakatoshi's hands are now gently caressing his hips and Tooru just can't pull away. “You should get going.”

“Yes.”

Wakatoshi still doesn't move though (Tooru secretly doesn't want him too; none of them is aware of it though).

“You _really_ should get going...”

When Wakatoshi leans forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips, Tooru lets him, sighing quietly into it. Why does it have to be so damn complicated? He can't stand this. At all.

And when he pulls away, Tooru can swear he sees a weird glint in his eyes, and it looks like sadness, disappointment maybe? He doesn't know for sure, but he doesn't like it at all – surprisingly; he thought he'd enjoy to see him like this, if this were a normal situation of course, but it is a shock when there's none of this enjoyment.

“Goodnight, Oikawa.”

The unspoken _I want you_ threatens to fall out of his mouth and Tooru can almost see it.

“Goodnight, Ushiwaka-chan.”

“Don't call me that.” He doesn't mean it though.

But for the first time ever since they met, Tooru obeys without complaining or without Wakatoshi having to push himself to the edge to make him.

“Goodnight, Ushijima.”

_'Don't go.'_

Then the next few steps he takes back tear up all the warmth, all the contact and he's heading for the door and in a blink of an eye he's gone. When he hears it getting shut, and is sure to be alone now, he lets his legs give out and collapses on the floor.

He brings his fingers to his lips.

And then to the bruised spot where Wakatoshi bit him.

_'Goddammit.'_

Just what is he going to do now?

As much as he tries to tell himself to calm down, to not think about it – because he should be thinking about his childhood friend and how to make him forgive all the stupid shit he's done during the last days; and yet, he has only managed to make it worse.

They should've talked today, yeah.

And yet Tooru didn't even manage to refuse him, to give him his jacket back and- heck, he's in possession of even more clothes of his now and... He can't forgive himself (can't even begin to look for an excuse of any kind), so how can he pretend this from Hajime?

Moreover, if he doesn't manage to talk to him and clear things out... Just what is he planning to do? Where is he going to go?

He doesn't even know which college Hajime has chosen – if he's chosen any at all; he doesn't even know if he would want to have him with him for the next years or ever again and there's a part of him that's still full of hope and the other one is suggesting him to just let it go and try to find happiness and future elsewhere.

He'll need to give his answer soon and damn, Tokyo seems like the best choice after everything.

He sighs heavily before finally gathering his thoughts, somehow suppressing them, and then standing up slowly. He hisses at the still uncomfortable feeling in his (Wakatoshi's) pants and from the way it looks, it won't go away until he takes care of it himself.

He licks his lips and then heads upstairs, with one only goal – a shower; he needs a hot, steaming, shower.

Since his parents aren't home, he doesn't bother to stop by his bedroom to bring a change of clothes with himself. Instead, he hurries his way to the bathroom and closes the door behind.

The first thing his eyes spot is his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He approaches it hesitantly and looks at the way he looks like right now. Swaddled in those clothes – definitely too large on certain areas, but still so comfortable he'd rather – curse him – keep them on.

He finally decides to take off the hoodie and when he does so, he throws it on the floor.

And in the mirror he immediately sees the red, now slowly turning to purplish mark. This one is definitely going to stay for a couple of days, he muses. At least it's put where he can cover it up. The only reason he's able to see him is the largeness of the t-shirt around his shoulders and this shows _way too much_ skin of his.

Still... It's different than the first time.

When that... _thing_ between them happened, Wakatoshi was way too careful not to mark him anywhere. But this time he's been less collected and more needy – the complete opposite from before.

Maybe he's running out of patience, or maybe he was aroused and excited as much as Tooru was, still is. Because it is such a new lot of sensations and he can't help but submit himself to every single touch, every single kiss that is placed just _anywhere_ ; as long as it comes from him.

He slaps himself and the tingling feeling in his cheek does help a little bit to distract him.

How can he even think about it?

He looks at himself and then strips out of the rest of those clothes.

Without thinking he goes into the shower, turns the water on. He hisses at the cold wave hitting him, his muscle tense and goosebumps appear on his arms. But this is what he needs to calm his arousal down. A minute goes by, the water has turned from cold to warm to hot and steaming and it just doesn't go away.

His eyes move to his hard, leaking cock and he sighs. This _really_ isn't going to go away on its own, even if he tries not to think about it, breathe and anything else that could make it stop.

He moves his hand to his neck, presses his fingertips on the bite mark and then goes down. He wraps his hand hesitantly around his length and lets out a soft moan at the pleasing sensation running through his whole body – it takes nothing more for him to start pumping with a quick pace as he braces himself against the shower wall. He closes his eyes and tries his best to suppress his moans – he's alone at home, and yet it feels like even this nothingness is staring at him and _judging_ – even though it isn't really a successful attempt.

He can't stop his mind from imagining Wakatoshi's hand instead of his own, the other one teasing his hole and slowly opening him up, calloused fingertips brushing against his sweet spot, and– he bites his lip until it bleeds, the wound Hajime gave him opens up and suddenly the bitter taste of red is back on his tongue.

Instead of it being a reminder, it actually turns into a turn on and Tooru's vision is clouded all of a sudden, jolts of pleasure run through every vein of his body, the image of Ushijima Wakatoshi doing all sorts of things to him becomes neater-

and then he comes.

He comes so hard his legs tremble and once again barely hold him up, feels tears spilling from the corners of his eyes (he tells himself it's just the water, nothing more) as his cum spills all over the shower floor and his eyes, unfocused, watch it flow away in the drain.

He gives himself a couple of last, lazy strokes and in the end he gives out to the incredible need to sit down and settles on the floor, with hot water still pouring over him. He closes his eyes, an immediate regret being born in the pit of his stomach, but he doesn't have enough strength to hide it or even justify it and instead lets it slowly begin to eat him.

His eyelids feel heavy after only ten minutes and he's thinking clearly enough to decide it wouldn't be the best idea to fall asleep in the shower, so he stands up, finishes washing himself and then gets out.

He grabs the largest bathrobe he finds and thankfully it's big enough for him wrap himself fully in it. He glances at himself in the mirror one last time – he almost doesn't recognize his own gaze – and then exits the bathroom.

“Tooru, we're home!” he hears his mother yell after the front door opens and he winces, instinctively pulling his bathrobe to cover as much as he can, even if there's no part of him except his legs) uncovered.

And then there are footsteps downstairs, in the kitchen, and then back in the hall. Then they are coming upstairs and his mother comes out from behind the corner, only to stop in front of her son with a smile on her face. “I see you already ate without us.”

Tooru nods slightly. “I didn't know you were coming back so soon.”

“Was Hajime-kun here?”

Tooru blinks. “Huh?”

His mother looks at him in confusion and Tooru gets it. And immediately his face falls and he shakes his head ever so slightly, but enough for her to see. “No, it was just another... _friend._ ”

“Do I know him?”

Tooru doesn't grace that with an answer and she comes even closer, only a few steps away from him now. She's shorter than him and is forced to look up to meet his eyes and there's no more brightness in those brown eyes he knows he inherited from her as well, now replaced with worry, as her hand raises up to his cheek.

“Tooru, what's wrong?”

Tooru tries to force a smile, but from the way his jaw feels tight, he can tell it doesn't work all that well. “I'm fine, mom.”

“What happened to your lip?”

Tooru looks away and turns his head to the side so she can't see the cut anymore. “Nothing. It was just an accident. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Are you sure?” _I don't believe you_ is written all over her face, but she doesn't say anything else along with that question – she has never insisted with him more than this; when he's going to be ready, he's going to tell her. It's always been this way; Shiratorizawa, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kageyama Tobio, _Iwaizumi Hajime_.

He talks to her about everything.

On his own.

When he is ready.

So she decides she's going to wait for it once more.

She stands on the tips of her toes and kisses him gently on the cheek. “Do you need anything?”

Tooru smiles; it's small, only a bare curve of his lips but this time it's real. “No, I'll just go to sleep. See you in the morning.”

“Get some rest.”

He nods slightly and then turns to walk into his room, shutting the door behind. He walks to the drawer where he holds his underwear and puts it on, letting the bathrobe fall on the floor. He then rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and looks at his school uniform hanged on the wall.

Tomorrow is going to be a hard day.

His hand moves on his forehead and, _dammit_ , the fever's back.

He should be resting.

He doesn't care about the light chill in his room and moves to crawl under the covers of his bed without putting on anything else. His hair is damp and it's making his pillow wet but he doesn't bother to care about it. He rolls so he's facing the wall and doesn't turn around when his mother comes in the room and places his phone on the floor next to his pillow, bending then down to place another kiss, this time on his temple.

And then the contact is gone and he's left alone for good this time.

He waits.

One.

Two.

Three.

His hand moves back to grab the phone and he brings it to his side, eyes watching at the dark screen. He presses the home button to see what time it is, but his eyes look for Hajime's name and new messages, which aren't there. He swallows loudly – he didn't even bother to reply to what he sent him this morning.

He misses him and it's only been a day – it shouldn't be like this. They should've awoken together and spent the whole day lazying around, skipping class just this once because they just finished with their exams and they deserve a day off.

He had his day off in the end, but it was nothing of what he wanted.

He clenches his fists.

But he didn't hate it in the end, surprisingly enough.

If it weren't for Hajime, it wouldn't have been all that terrible, and it wasn't. But he doesn't know how to explain it, because it isn't that simple. And yet, it was just that.

He feels weak.

If he hadn't managed to get back that little bit of clearness in his mind, he would have been doing different things in his bed now and, despite he's telling himself it's not what he wants (he doesn't want it at all), there's a weird feeling in his gut telling him he's nothing but a liar.

And then there's that little part of him again. And it's whispering to him, making him think – doubt... All of it.

If Hajime hadn't found out...

If he ran after him when he could...

If he hadn't run into Wakatoshi...

If he hadn't been with him...

_If he only asked him to stay..._

_If they-_

It dawns on him, finally. That weird feeling in his chest, sitting right above the burning one of guilt; he knows what it is, but-

“No,” he mumbles, forcing his eyes shut.

He never liked Wakatoshi. He's not starting to like him now either. He isn't. _He isn't. What happened before was nothing but a mistake, like everything else and-_

_He isn't falling for him._

He falls asleep like that, but that voice keeps echoing over and over _and over._

***

“ _You're a liar.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologize for the late update, but I've been buried underneath tons of homework and final tests that I've barely had the time to breathe. Now I'm finally out of it though and I can't wait to get back to get some serious work done. XD
> 
> Thank you very much for the patience and for the support you constantly give to me - I'll try not to let you down and make you wait for the next chapter this long (but I do want to make it good, so it may take a while anyway).
> 
> ***
> 
> I don't really have any particular comments about this chapter, except "Oikawa, you're fucked." Seriously, I don't even know how to make it better for him. Poor thing.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thanks for the Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks in advance! <3


	9. Gotta Let Him Go (Don't Let Me Go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just... How obtuse can you possibly be, Iwa-chan?”
> 
> Hajime glares at him, fists clenched tightly at his sides, but Tooru isn't afraid, as there's nothing much he has left to lose. “Don't you understand that this could be our last conversation?!” he yells, immediately bringing a hand to wipe his eyes from the tears threatening to fall – because the fact that he's saying it... It's making it so damn real.

When Tooru arrives to school the next day, his head is so stuffed with thoughts and decisions he still has to make before he starts looking for Hajime and a place where they can talk between the various lessons – they might be in the same classroom, but it wouldn't be too wise (nor healthy) for him to try and explain himself there -, but at the same time, his eyes are scanning the whole courtyard and searching for him and nothing else matters.

That is the main reason he finds himself surrounded by the girls in less than five minutes after he walks through the school gates. He didn't pay attention to their arrival and therefore didn't manage to sneak away before they got to him.

So they get to him. And there's no way he can escape or brush them off – it would be rude, and his reputation would crumble to pieces.

Needless to say, they immediately start with the same story.

“Oikawa-kun, hello!”

“How are you today?”

“I prepared you a bento! Here you go, I hope you like it!” A bag gets pushed in his hands without him being able to reject it or say a proper thank you (though he has forgotten his lunch bag today).

“Why weren't you here yesterday?”

“Did you not feel well?”

“Are you fine today?”

Questions keep being thrown at him and it takes him a while before he's able to interrupt them. He answers everything though, smiling at them but also not giving enough room with his words to start a conversation that could last long – short but straight to the point is the way to go in situations like these, but he still can't show them they're more than unwelcome.

He still needs to be done with this quickly so he can get to his own business eventually – possibly before the start of the first lesson.

But he doesn't expect a first-year to come forward, with a worried and curios expression at the same time plastered on her face. “Oikawa-senpai, what happened to your lip?”

The others notice that and immediately start to make more of a fuss than they should.

“Kyaaah! Oikawa-kun is hurt!”

“What happened?”

“Are you alright? Do you need to go to the infirmary? I could accompany you if you want.”

“Or maybe I could do it?”

They press themselves all over him and for the first time, he finds himself paralyzed. He didn't think about an answer to _that_! He can't just tell everyone that Hajime hit him; it would turn all the girls (and perhaps some guys too) against his best friend because of his own stupid shit and he is so not going to allow that to happen.

He swallows hard and then gives them his best _fake_ smile, his hand placing itself on the back of his head. “Ah... I wasn't looking where I was going and I ended up walking into the wall. I was so careless...” he laughs then – and it's the cheapest excuse in this world and there's no way it would work with someone who knows him well enough, someone like Hajime... but the girls believe him and giggle.

“Oikawa-kun... So clumsy!”

“How cute!”

And then Tooru feels it.

That intense feeling piercing into his back and tearing through the thin layer of skin and thick muscles to his spine. He feels shivers running over him and his heart stops for the briefest of seconds.

He turns around slowly, the grin on his face now vanishing as his mouth closes into a thin line. Hazel eyes widen when they meet green and all of a sudden everything else disappears.

Hajime.

“Iwa-chan...” It's a mere whisper, inaudible even to the closest of the girls around him, but Hajime sees. And he turns around nonetheless, facing the setter with his back and walking away from there.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru calls out, raising his hand to wave at him, hoping to be noticed. But he's being noticed by everyone but him. _By everyone but him._

This time, however, he doesn't plan on letting him go and act like a coward like he did that night.

He's ready to move towards him, but the girls are in front of him again. He tries to smile, but it's forced and tight – not one of his best performances. “Girls... I need to do something important, so could you please let me through?” He asks it in the kindest tone of voice he can possibly manage with the hurry he's in and he honestly hopes for it to be enough. It has to be enough.

And yet-

“Noo! Oikawa-kun, don't go!”

“Stay here with us!”

Some of the boldest girls (third-years he's known for a long while, some of them having attended the same middle school he and Hajime have too) press themselves against him, wrapping their arms around Tooru's own not intending to let go at all.

Tooru's eyes immediately move to Hajime's figure, which is becoming smaller and smaller and disappearing in the crowd of students, most likely heading to class – and if he gets there before Tooru catches him, there's no way they were going to be able to talk and the setter would find himself having to wait for the first break, and that's too _fucking_ long!

He grits his teeth at the tightening grip on his arms. He knows they're joking; they're always joking. But he doesn't have time for this. He tries to ask them again, “Please, let me through,” but he gets nothing but giggles in response.

And he loses it.

“LET GO OF ME!”

He yells and with one last struggle, full of clear, brute strength earned with years of practice, he frees his arms from the girls, which yelp and take a step back – they've never seen him angry before. He's always been the kind Tooru who kept smiling at them and telling them how cute and adorable they are. He never reacted like this around them and only now some of them realize they might have gone a bit too far.

Immediately they make way for him to pass through and watch as he starts to run into the crowd of students who stopped around to watch them after the setter has yelled. They let him through as well, and Tooru doesn't hear their comments about “how rude of him,” or “how mean,” he was to those girls.

He needs to find Hajime.

And he does.

He sees his figure walking away from him and quickens his pace. “Iwa-chan!”

He knows the spiker has heard him from the way his shoulders tense.

“Iwa-chan!”

He's almost there.

“Iwa-chan!”

And then his hand comes in contact with his wrist, finally stopping him from his escape and Tooru lets out a breath of relief when Hajime's walk comes to a stop.

Hajime turns around and the look he gives to the setter is cold enough for Tooru's blood to freeze in his veins and muscles grow stiff. He watches those green eyes meeting his for a while, before they flicker to the cut on his lip and there's a frown on his face at the probable realization from where it could be from.

It doesn't last long though, because his gaze soon traveling to where Tooru's hand is wrapped around his wrist, wanting to be let go of. Tooru understands and does it, and takes a step forward in return.

“Iwa-chan, I need to talk to you. Can you come with me?”

Hajime shakes his head.

“Please.”

“Lessons are about to start. I don't want to be late because of you,” is everything he tells him, breaking down Tooru's plan to skip the first hour to talk and clarify (though everything's pretty much obvious), and turns on his heel, and turning into their classroom.

Tooru stands there, swallows hard.

He gets in as well and the bell rings.

***

The break takes forever to arrive and when it does, Tooru blinks a couple of times to get out of his thoughts. His head turns to the seat next to his where Hajime's sitting, only to find him exiting the door and head into the hall.

He doesn't come back until the the bell announces the beginning of English class.

***

At lunch break, Hajime is called by the teacher.

He's held by her for more than half of the time they have to eat – when he's done, he disappears once again.

***

“Oi, what happened to your face?” Takahiro asks during practice.

Tooru blinks, looking first at everyone standing around him as if he was a newbie – it's kind of understandable though, since he hasn't shown himself in the gym for more than a week. And now he returns with a broken lip, pale skin (the fever has really worn him out) and an uncertain look, which keeps faltering every time Hajime comes in his line of sight.

He still doesn't know how to answer to that question.

He looks away and in that moment Hajime is in front of him, keeping a huge distance between them, but their eyes meet for the briefest of moments, before Tooru looks back at the other third-year.

“It was an accident. I didn't look where I was going and I ended up walking into the wall,” he tells them, just like he told the girls. They don't giggle though, instead ask him if everything's alright.

“Yeah, everything's fine.”

He hears Hajime snort somewhere in the back of the group before he leaves to run laps.

Tooru instead sits on the bench – it'd be careless to practice with the way his knee was hurting the day before; he'll practice again on Monday.

***

Practice ends at the usual time.

They return to the locker rooms, change their clothes and leave.

Hajime is walking in front of him, with Issei and Takahiro, so Tooru follows. When the two part their ways from them, Tooru and Hajime stand in the middle of the street, watching them leave and once they've turned the corner and disappeared, Hajime turns on his heel and heads home.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru calls him.

“Shut up.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I'm tired.”

He doesn't give him another chance to approach him and instead quickens his pace and Tooru can't find the strength to insist more for today.

.

.

.

Saturday comes quietly.

Tooru opens his eyes, blinks a couple of times to get used to the light peeking inside his room through the curtains and then turns on his side, checking his phone and frowning when finding no new messages.

He gets up and starts his usual routine – bathroom, clothes, breakfast – and heads out after saying goodbye to his parents.

The walk to school is quiet, _lonely_. Neither today Hajime's waiting for him near the park to walk with him, and the usual twenty-minute walk feels like an eternity. But it's going to be the last day; he's going to talk to him today and from tomorrow, everything will get back to normal.

***

When he gets to school, the president of the student council, Amane Yukio, a third-year role model for the other students and a handful cutie as well, waits for him at the front gate. He remembers the day she confessed to him, right before the tournament and also remembers rejecting her with his usual smile, because “I'm sorry, Yuki-chan... But I'd rather focus on volleyball right now.” It wouldn't have lasted otherwise, and he didn't want to hurt any more people because of his selfishness.

“Oikawa-kun!”

Tooru forces his lips into a smile. “Yuki-chan, good morning,” he says, waving his hand and then approaching her.

He watches as her lips curve into a smile and pink dusts the soft skin of her cheeks. She tilts her head to the side and greets back. Tooru is ready to reject her again, because he really isn't in the mood for this.

Surprisingly, it isn't a confession he gets. “Our consultant sent me to get you. She says she has to talk about something with you.”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “With me?”

Yukio raises her shoulders slightly. “She's also in charge of our college requests, so could it be about that?”

Tooru swallows – he forgot about that. He hasn't even made his choice yet and he was supposed to go and see her... _on Thursday_. And he was absent. “Oh... Um... Yeah.” He inhales quietly, immediately recollecting himself. “I'll be going after the break.”

“She said she already told your teachers – you can skip the first two lessons of the morning.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I'll be going then, Yuki-chan. I'll see you around.” He doesn't wait for her reply and instead walks into the courtyard with a quick step. He doesn't see Hajime in there, so it means he's either already inside or hasn't arrived yet. Oh well, he'll find him around later; now he needs to get this done.

He arrives in front of her office, on the first floor, a few rooms away from the teacher's room.

He takes in a deep breath and knocks three times.

“Come in!” comes a soft voice from inside.

Tooru opens the door and steps in. “Excuse me.”

The woman looks up from a pile of papers she's reading and when her eyes spot the setter, she immediately greets him warmly: “Oh, Oikawa-kun, hello!” She stands up from her seat and motions with her hand for him to come in further and points at the chair in front of her desk. “Please, sit down.”

Tooru obeys without complaints and, once he's comfortable in his seat, he watches her do the same before opening a drawer on her right. “I've got extremely good news for you, Oikawa-kun!” she says happily and after some digging, pulls out a letter with a white envelope.

Tooru flinches.

“May I know what is it?”

The woman, Mirasaki Sakura, hands it to him and when he takes it, she expectantly looks at him until his eyes drop to look at what's written on the piece of paper he's holding.

_'The University of Tokyo'._

“What the-”

“It's a scholarship offer. They've seen your grades, you did extremely well on your finals, and their volleyball coach is very interested in your abilities. He called Mizoguchi-sensei on Wednesday and he asked me to let you know about it when we would discuss your choices. But you weren't present that day...”

Tooru stares at her with a blank face, not believing his own ears, listening to her words. It's... Weird.

“Umm... I...”

“He told me you would be playing with Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun. I know you've been in rival schools all these years, but he said he'd like to have you two playing together next year.”

Tooru cringes, his hands instinctively clutch onto the envelope. “I...”

There is a long silence, during which Sakura stares at him intensely, as if waiting for him to say something. She might have misunderstood the lack of his words. “Umm... Oikawa-kun...” Tooru looks up. “You _are_ going to continue with your studies, right?”

He says nothing once again.

“It would be a shame for a student like you to-”

“I am going to continue,” Tooru interrupts her. And then he looks down again; those letters are staring at him as intensely as the consultant in front of him and it makes him feel uneasy. “I just don't know if this is the right place for me to go to,” he mumbles.

Green eyes blink.

“Oikawa-kun?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want to do after high school?”

He doesn't have to think twice to answer her, because they both know what it is. “I want to play volleyball.”

The look in his eyes changes, and Sakura notices it. She crosses her arms over her chest and licks her lips. “Well... You must already know that Tokyo is the best-”

“Yeah, I know.” If this came about a month ago, he would have been the happiest student alive – it's everything he ever wanted; Bokuto Koutarō, Fukurodani's ace, and Kuroo Tetsurō, Nekoma's middle blocker, are both going to be there. But Ushijima Wakatoshi is too.

“It's... complicated.”

Sakura tilts her head to the side, not quite understanding the whole matter. “Oikawa-kun, if it's about the money, they're offering to cover all your expenses and your parents wouldn't need to spend anything, unless you want to live in an apartment instead of the dorm. But I believe that too can be arranged somehow.”

Tooru shakes his head. “It's not about the money. That isn't a problem at all... It's...”

Then it dawns on him.

“D-did Iwa-ch- Iwaizumi Hajime come here by any chance?”

Sakura sighs.

“He did.”

Tooru's eyes widen – so he is choosing, just like him. “Did he already tell you where he's going to-”

“Yes, he did,” Sakura tells him calmly. But then she looks away. “He also told me not to tell you anything.”

Tooru swallows, tries to keep himself collected. “I-”

“I can't tell you, Oikawa-kun.”

Tooru lowers his head; she won't tell him. He knows how to read people too well to know anything is going to be useless to convince her. “I understand. I'll try and talk to him on my own,” he explains. Sakura nods and asks one last question. “So, about Tokyo?”

“I don't know. I need to think about it.”

She nods, watches him stand up and head towards the door. When his hand is about to grab the handle, she stops him. “Oikawa-kun.”

He turns around, meeting her eyes. Her lips curve up in a small smile. “This is really a huge chance for you, you know? Don't let it pass you by because of this. You have a week of time to think about it and then I'll need your answer. Try to clear it out with Iwaizumi-kun by then,” she tells him gently, but he can feel the worried tone underneath it all. He knows that better than anyone.

He exits her office without a reply.

***

He doesn't have the strength to follow Hajime around for the rest of the day; instead he keeps staring at the letter he's been given.

He doesn't know what to do.

.

.

.

He spends his Sunday lazying in his room, sprawled on his futon. His eyes keep looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars he and Hajime put up there when they were kids.

Hajime doesn't text him.

He doesn't touch his cellphone at all.

There is a dead silence, and yet, Tooru keeps hearing it. Over and over.

“ _I want you.”_

.

.

.

On Monday, he tries to talk to Hajime once again, but he ignores him and gets out. He doesn't come back to the classroom for the whole break – just like the first day after their fight.

He doesn't sleep that night.

.

.

.

Tuesday is no better; they keep having practice matches between themselves. Hajime chooses Shigeru to be his setter for the sixth set as well (yeah, Tooru has counted all of them and all of them were with the two of them in different teams). Even when they modify some of the teams' components, Hajime makes sure to play against Tooru instead of by his side.

After their tenth set, Tooru tries once again. “Iwa-chan!”

“Go away,” Hajime replies and walks away.

“Oh, the married couple is fighting,” Takahiro says at one point.

“How rare,” Issei mumbles before taking a sip of his water.

Tooru doesn't reply to any of them; he curses under his breath, clenches his fists and walks into the locker rooms with the intent to change and go home. He can't stand this anymore for today.

.

.

.

On Wednesday Hajime doesn't come to school. Tooru, for the first time, doesn't know how to answer when people ask him where he is.

.

.

.

The same happens on Thursday.

Tooru regrets going home earlier than usual two days ago.

He still has trouble sleeping.

.

.

.

On Friday there's no trace of Hajime at school either, but Tooru's had more than enough. He needs to get his worries off his chest, needs to tell him he needs to make a choice, he needs to tell him he misses his friend more than anything in this world.

And since Hajime doesn't let him approach him at school, he needs to go somewhere where he won't be pushed away.

At his place.

He gets there after school's over and after confirming his presence at the dinner with the rest of the team due next week.

He hopes he'll be able to clear things up with his best friend by then – he really, _really_ misses him, his best friend, so when he arrives at his front door, the clenching feeling inside his stomach is rather painful. Because if it doesn't work now, it won't work ever again.

He just can't believe he managed to ruin a lifetime long friendship with one shitty decision.

He takes in a deep breath and then presses the doorbell button. The noise is rather strong, so even if Hajime's alone and upstairs, he'll definitely hear him. He just hopes he's at home – he's been worried sick for him. Nobody knew anything about his absences.

He hears footsteps coming down the stairs and he immediately recognizes the spiker's steps. He sighs in relief. They are getting closer to the door and then they stop. “Who is it?” Hajime's voice comes from inside and Tooru is almost tempted to lie, so he could be sure he'd open the door and he would see him. But then, they've known each other since they were kids, so there's no way Hajime wouldn't be able to recognize his voice.

“It's me, Iwa-chan... I want to-”

“Go home.”

Tooru doesn't hear any noise after that, which means Hajime's still there. “Iwa-chan, I rellay need to talk to you!”

There's a moment of silence and then he hears Hajime snort. It's quiet, extremely quiet and muffled by the walls separating them, but Tooru's focused more than ever.

“Go home,” Hajime repeats just like before.

“No!”

Footsteps can be heard again, Hajime's walking away. “Then stay there, do what you want.” But he's not letting him come in.

“I'm not leaving until you let me in, Iwa-chan!” Tooru speaks louder now; the first reason is because he knows Hajime's probably not listening – he wants to be heard – and the second, well... If he makes enough noise, Hajime is going to let him in to avoid a fuss with the neighbors.

He rings the doorbell again.

And again.

And _again._

He then knocks as loud as he can for a while – eventually he decides to return to the doorbell, because he's a setter and if he hurts his hands, he's done with his career and current future plans (for some reason it also seems like a good idea, at the moment at least; maybe everything would be normal then).

After more than half an hour of uncomfortable noise, Hajime rushes to the door and Tooru is about to start knocking once again, before it opens and he almost hits Hajime instead.

“Are you fucking finished with this?!”

Tooru shrugs. “You should have opened before if it bothered you so much.

Hajime growls. “I told you to LEAVE. I don't want to see you, and I don't want to talk to you,” he says in a menacing tone that forces a grimace to appear on Tooru's face. Hajime never talked to him like this before. It's almost as if they were simple strangers and nothing more. As if more than ten years of bonds and unconditional friendships never existed.

“I know! I know you don't want to see me; I know you hate me right now, Iwa-chan...”

“Then why are you here, you idiot?!”

Tooru steps closer, and just when Hajime is about to shut the door in his face, he blocks him with his hand and ends up with their faces, only a couple of inches apart from each other. Hajime doesn't step back and just stares at him, wanting to hear his answer.

It comes unexpected (but then, it _is_ expected).

“Because you're my best friend! Because I need you, Iwa-chan. I have to make one of the most important decisions in my life and I want to talk to _you_ , because _you_ are the only one who can help me out!” Tooru says, louder than his usual tone is, but they're both upset and... And it doesn't matter. “Please... Please, Iwa-chan.” The last part is a mere mumble.

Hajime feels a lump growing in his throat.

He watches Tooru's head lowering...

And he crumbles as well.

“Come in.”

Tooru blinks when Hajime steps away. He isn't sure of it; really isn't sure of it.

“Are you coming in or what?! You kept bugging me and everything and now you don't want to?! Get in before I change my mind!”

Tooru nods quickly, without thinking and steps in, walking past Hajime and then bending down to remove his shoes. When he straightens up, Hajime is already making his way to his kitchen and he follows him immediately. Hajime gets to the counter and starts making himself a sandwich.

“Do you want something in particular?”

“Anything's fine.”

Hajime nods and gives him his back. He finishes his sandwich, then pulls out a bowl where he puts some chips, and then gets them orange juice from the fridge and pours it into two glasses. He then sets everything on the table and sits opposite the setter.

Tooru frowns, because he wanted him to sit next to him.

He watches him take the first bite and he knows he's allowed to talk, but he just can't bring himself to. He needs to choose his words carefully, because one wrong thing could just worsen this whole situation – he can't let that happen.

Hajime isn't even looking at him.

Tooru looks down.

“So? Didn't you want to talk?”

Tooru licks his lips. He does, he _so does_ want to talk.

“Umm... Mirasaki-sensei called me to talk to her last week. She told me I've been offered a full scholarship in Tokyo,” he explains carefully, eyes back on Hajime's face to search for any kind of reaction. He still isn't looking at him.

“Good for you; you deserve it.”

He's always been an excellent student after all, plus talented in volleyball, so it's obvious he would have been scouted by someone. Sooner or later.

“Thanks,” Tooru whispers. And then he lets out a strangled laugh. “I shouldn't even be thinking about it, right? I should be taking this opportunity and be grateful,” he tells him, but something's off. Hajime can tell better than anyone. “So where's the problem? I see you've already made your choice.”

“But what about... you...?”

Hajime blinks.

Then he scoffs.

“What about me?”

It dawns on him as soon as it slips out of his mouth. “Wait...”

Tooru stiffens.

“Don't tell me you're hesitating just because of me.”

Tooru's eyes widen. “ _Just_ because of you?” he asks almost in disbelief, because how can Hajime even think he's not a big deal in his life. He's everything. _Everything._

And Hajime seems to realize that – he probably always knew and never wanted to admit it – because his angry expression speaks for him. “You idiot Trashykawa! This is YOUR future! It concerns what _you_ want to do and what _you_ want to become! You shouldn't be thinking about what I'm going to do!”

Toou bites his lip. It's not just what he wants.

“It's not just that.”

His heart is at stake here as well.

“Then _what_ is it?!”

Tooru's breath hitches. But he can tell him. He can tell him. “Ushijima.” He watches as Hajime's body visibly stiffens, but then decides to continue as the damage's been already made. “I... I don't think he's good, healthy for me. I-” Because he doesn't know him, isn't able to read him. Wakatoshi showed himself gentle and caring around him, but what if it changes once they're there? Except for his blunt personality and exceptional volleyball skills, he knows nothing else.

“Bullshit, Oikawa.” The way Hajime interrupts him makes his mind go blank. “If you're trying to make up excuses, at least try to find one that can convince me.”

Tooru shakes his head. “It's not an excuse!”

At this point Hajime loses it and stands up, kicking his chair backwards. “BULLSHIT! He's not healthy for you?! Since when, dammit?! You couldn't have a better choice, and you just keep insisting on seeing him as an enemy to beat!”

This time Tooru stands up too, it isn't as violent, but it's enough to show him growing upset (desperate) as well. “He is! For years I tried, we tried to beat him and failed! And now I should just go to his side and play with him?!” Brown eyes glare at green. “And you would be fine with that?! After everything we've been trough, you'd be just fine with letting me go with him?!” Only after finishing the sentence, Tooru does realize how loud he's been yelling. His throat is starting to burn and there's a more than uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach and it's raising up slowly to his chest.

Hajime sighs heavily. “You said it right. We _tried_ and never succeeded. But it wasn't your fault; it was ours. Your team was the weak link in that, not you. That's why you should just go there, without us. It's what's best for you, because you both compliment each others' abilities, in a way it never happened in Seijou.”

Tooru lets out a strangled noise. There's an enormous amount of certainty in Hajime's voice, as if this was something he wanted to say for a long time, because after it leaves his mouth, his shoulder become less tense and he leans forward, resting both of his hands on the table.

But it isn't time to relax for Tooru.

“It's not true, Iwa-chan! You've always given me you best and-”

“EXACTLY!” Hajime yells on top of his lungs and slams his right hand on the table in a painful looking way. He shuts his eyes tightly, grits his teeth and the hand he just slammed the table with clenches into a fist – his nails are going to leave a red mark on his palm later. But he can't control it, the helplessness. “We gave you your best and we weren't enough. For you... It would be better if you were with him.”

Tooru shakes his head. “No! I'd fight every day with him! – that's everything they've been doing for the past six years, except for the last two days they spent together – We just don't fit well together!”

If Hajime was angry before, he loses every last bit of self control over his words after this. “Don't think I'm stupid, Oikawa. You two fucked and you're telling me you don't fit well together?!”

Tooru's eyes widen and everything seems to freeze.

Hajiem didn't mean that, right?

“Iwa-chan... I...”

Hajime rubs his eyes with the back of his hand – he feels them burning (and there is regret for what he said). But he meant it. If there's something Tooru doesn't want to do, he just doesn't. So if he had sex with Wakatoshi, it means he wanted it; no matter how deep inside of him this feeling was, but it existed – and that's why it happened.

Tooru sits back down, his legs too weak to hold him up. He feels like all of his blood just stopped running through his veins and the world is starting to spin.

“It happened only once...” he mutters, mostly to himself, because it's something that happened once and ruined a forever.

“I don't believe you.”

Tooru looks up. “What?”

“When you didn't come to school last week, Wakatoshi called to ask me to let your teachers know,” Hajime starts.

“He called you?”

Hajime doesn't even listen to his question. “It means you spent the day at his place or the other way around, doesn't matter... And you still insist that you wouldn't get along.”

Hajime picks up his chair and then sits back down on it, burying his face in his hands. “I should have known...”

Tooru stops breathing.

“I saw it during all those matches; every time you did something outstanding, he was watching you. I could see in his eyes how much he wanted, wants you. All to himself. So he can become even stronger. But it wasn't just that... his look wasn't-” He stops, realizing this could come out in a wrong way. He still doesn't look at Tooru, but he can tell he's being listened. And it makes it so much worse. “I thought I was paranoid, that it was all just a part of my imagination and then I get to find out that you two... slept together.”

Tooru knows it isn't a justification, but he says it anyway. “I wasn't planning for that to happen...”, _you should know that. Don't you trust me?_

Hajime shakes his head angrily. “Don't you understand that you're making it worse like this?!” He asks. Tooru doesn't understand, so he lets him continue. “If I knew... it was something you wanted, I would have understood and I would have let you go and know you'd go with him because you want him as much as he does and not just because of a consequence of something that happened before and that 'wasn't planned to happen'.” He feels his own voice growing weaker with every word.

Tooru doesn't want this to happen. He can't let it happen. “I don't want to leave without you, Iwa-chan...” His voice is cracked already, and he knows he won't hold much longer.

But it isn't enough to change Hajime's mind. “I don't think there are much better options for you. You have to go to Tokyo, you really do. I'm telling you that as your friend – (and nothing more) -, but I'm not obliged to follow you because you aren't capable of making a choice.”

Tooru's eyes widen once again. The mere idea of not staying with him for even a day makes him shiver. How is he going to manage without him? “So you...” he's careful in picking his words. He needs to read him, for one last time at least. “You've already made your choice? For college I mean.”

Hajime stands up and pushes the chair under the table. “It's not something that should concern you.”

Tooru stands up abruptly. “What do you mean, it shouldn't concern me?! Just what am I gonna do without you?!” he asks desperately; is Hajime even aware that he's pushing him away like this and it could come to a point beyond repair. 'Please, don't answer that,' he prays.

But it's all in vain.

“Do you think I'll just follow you so you have someone to keep you company when feel lonely?” He immediately regrets it and decides what's best not to worsen this situation. “I... Just leave,” he says and walks out of the kitchen.

Tooru follows him. “I don't want to leave. I want to talk you!”

Hajime growls. “For fuck's sake! Can't you just leave me alone and go annoy someone else? Ushijima, for example!”

Tooru takes the hit, and it feels like the strongest punch in his stomach (he'd definitely prefer that over those words anytime) – he never thought Hajime could answer him like this; sure, he's treated him rudely ever since they were kids, but it was never serious. But this time it's driven by rage, desperation and disappointment. Still, it doesn't change the way things are and the way they're about to become.

“Just... How obtuse can you possibly be, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime glares at him, fists clenched tightly at his sides, but Tooru isn't afraid, as there's nothing much he has left to lose. “Don't you understand that this could be our last conversation?!” he yells, immediately bringing a hand to wipe his eyes from the tears threatening to fall – because the fact that he's saying it... It's making it so damn real. He can't breathe all of a sudden. “You keep ignoring me at school, you don't play with me at practice, you don't reply to my texts... And now you're even telling me to get out of your house just like this?”, _as if I was nothing to you?_ He doesn't notice Hajime's body stiffen, green eyes widen. He doesn't see him starting to tremble, because he's already trembling himself. He can't stand this. He just can't.

“I know... I know I deserve this kind of treatment, but – he looks up, the tears winning their battle against him and finally spilling out – I miss my best friend. I miss him so damn much.” And then everything turns into a mess of sobs and choked gasps as all of his restrains collapse.

He doesn't see Hajime anymore.

The shame makes its way to him and darkens his vision and it all turns into a formless blur and everything that his ears hear are his own cries, which are so ugly and yet appropriate to show the way he's feeling.

Hajime's always seen it, the raw emotion pouring out of him like the most violent and rich river and destroying everything in its path – this everything being Tooru himself in this case. But this everything is also Hajime.

The way Tooru's breaking down because of one stupid thing he did. Hajime sometimes struggles to remember he's human, but then, it's what he tells him every single time he screws up. And this time is no exception. Oikawa Tooru is just a human made of flesh and blood and sins... He doesn't deserve this.

The spiker takes a step forward, moves his hands towards him to reach him and everything seems to be going on in slow motion, like he's never going to be able to reach him.

Until he does.

His fingertips come in contact with shaky hands, and then it's his palms, his whole body... So close to him. He moves the setter's ones to uncover his tearful and wet face, finds wide brown eyes looking up slowly and an open mouth, ready to question him. But he doesn't look at that.

He looks at _him._

At the little boy he fell in love with when he first saw him in the park, hiding behind his mother's dress, alone and without anyone to play with. At the boy who called him Iwa-chan, helped him chasing after beetles in summer, spent the rainy days with him to ease his boredom. He sees the one who made him fall in love with volleyball, who brought his best out of him, even when he himself struggled with it.

He sees his best friend, the one he loves.

And nothing else matters.

He wraps his arms around him, feels Tooru's body stiffen for the briefest of seconds. And then he's hugged back, his best friend's face buried in his shoulders. “I'm sorry, Iwa-chan... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... _I'm sorry._ ”

“Shut up. Idiot.”

He says it to reassure him, to let him know everything's alright, but for some reason Tooru starts to cry even more. He stops apologizing though, and Hajime's heart clenches. “Stop crying now. I'm here,” he whispers and Tooru's hold tightens on him, as if he were trying to make sure he really is.

A week never felt so long. For any of them.

Tooru sniffs loudly, in a way that makes Hajime chuckle. Because this is how he is; a raw, emotional Tooru only he has ever had the privilege to see.

Tooru raises his head and then they're looking at each other. Only then Hajime notices all the details his rage hid away from him. His eyes, other than being red and puffy because of all the tears he's crying out, are tired, exhausted, with dark circles under them the boy poorly managed to cover with some concealer.

His body... The way it feels in his arms is not right. It's too stiff, too heavy, barely holding up properly.

He's tired.

“Let's go to my room,” Hajime murmurs quietly, shifting onto Tooru's side, but still holding an arm wrapped around his shoulders to make sure he doesn't collapse. Tooru only nods to his suggestion and walks with him. They go upstairs, reach the spiker's room, side by side and Hajime opens the door, lets the setter in and closes it.

He offers him clean clothes to change into, and strangely, Tooru asks to change in the bathroom and does so, leaving a confused Hajime to sit on the bed.

When he gets back, he finds him like that, staring at the floor and only when he hears him taking a step in, he looks up, meeting hazel eyes. He sighs slightly when he sees him already changed, so he pats the spot next to him on the soft mattress. “Come on, lie down. You look like someone who hasn't had any sleep in days.” Hajime knows this look very well, as he's seen him in this state (and even worse) countless times already.

Tooru looks away, and it only confirms Hajime's words.

He crawls on the bed, lies down on the covers and watches as Hajime stays still, giving him his back to face. He's leaving him all the space to himself and he can't help but remember every time he did that – Hajime, when they didn't share the bed, always insisted on staying on a guest futon, only to make Tooru more comfortable.

So they stay like that, in silence. That comfortable silence that there is between them. But Tooru still doesn't manage to fall asleep; he rolls over a couple of times, until he finally sits up, holding himself on his elbow. He knows he shouldn't be asking it, but the hammering beating of his heart won't stop. He could be making it worse, but he needs to know.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Hajime turns around, eyes wide, and watches as Tooru moves towards him until their faces are only inches apart. Tooru can feel his breath on his lips, caressing his skin gently, and waits; waits for a sign, a word, a 'no'... Anything to let him know just where the hell he's standing with him right now.

And then it happens.

Hajime's gaze moves onto the setter's lips before their eyes meet again. Tooru knows what this means. It's everything but a 'no'.

He kisses him. Like always, he first only brushes his lips against the other's, but Hajime doesn't kiss back. Tooru presses more against him and licks his bottom lip gently, inviting him to just take him and give him what he wants, and only then Hajime whimpers slightly and proceeds to kiss back. It heats up from there, becoming more passionate, addictive, and Tooru finds himself wrapping his arms around the spiker's neck, pulling him towards him, more and more _and more_ until he's falling back against the pillow and is pulling Hajime along with him.

The spiker rests his elbows at each side of Tooru's head and enters his mouth with his tongue, earning a quiet moan from him that makes his blood rush. But it's somehow weird. There isn't that warm feeling spreading in his chest like usual, instead it's a sense of discomfort from before that just doesn't go away. They teeth clash and Tooru accidentally kicks him with his knee when he spreads his legs for him, before wrapping them around his waist.

When they pull away to breathe, Hajime notices Tooru's look and... it looks so empty, even when it isn't and- he can't think after that because Tooru's lips are over his again, hands sliding down his back, but it's not how it usually feels.

Hajime struggles and then pulls away, leaving a breathless Tooru seeking for more.

Before he's able to kiss him again, Hajime turns his head away. “No, stop.”

Tooru immediately stops his attempt and lays his head on the pillow, eyes wide. He untangles his limbs and frees him, watches him sit up and rub his face with his hands.

Tooru really wants to touch him, but Hajime doesn't want to be touched.

“Are you alright, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime takes in a deep breath. “Yeah... No.” Then there is a short moment of silence, before Hajime exhales. “I... I just can't, Oikawa. I'm sorry, but you... and me...” It's different. It's different from everything there was before and to ruin it all, only two weeks were needed.

“Oh,” is everything Tooru manages to say; but to be honest, there's nothing much he can say that could make their relationship come out unharmed and without any scars. He screwed up, letting Wakatoshi in, getting addicted to his touch to the point where he finds himself craving for it in the darkest of nights and the deepest of dreams.

It's making this happen.

It's making them seem two different people.

His hands raises up eventually, and it ends in Hajime's spiky hair, where he ruffles gently before giving him a tender smile. “I understand, Iwa-chan.” And there is no resentment, no anger – maybe a little bit of silence, but it is a surprise when he finds himself with an odd trace of relief.

He lets himself fall backwards once again, his back lands on the softness of the pillow and his eyes move to the clear, empty ceiling of the room. He remembers his own, and all the stars, and how he saved the biggest ones for Hajime to put in his room as well, but the spiker never did. It was probably the only thing he hasn't done for him.

Everything else he had granted him.

“After what happened in our gym... There's been nothing else between Ushiwaka and me,” he begins, closing his eyes, remembering a rainy night. “I didn't go out to look for him, I just went running, because I didn't know what else to do. You have to believe me.” The tone of his voice is weak, and when he opens his eyes, he finds Hajime looking at him, listening.

“I overworked myself and ended up hurting my leg again – Hajime's lip twitches – and he just... found me. I was barely standing on my feet, so he brought me to his place, since it was closer. I was soaked to the bone and managed to catch a fever and he took care of me. A hot bath, dry clothes and warm food – as simple as that, just like-”

“Just like I would have done,” Hajime finishes for him.

Tooru smiles at him gently. “No one's better than you though, Iwa-chan. Only Iwa-chan knows everything about me.”

“I don't think it's going to be like this forever, Oikawa. Somebody's about to take my place,” Hajime says quietly, with a small smile gracing his features, but Tooru doesn't miss the melancholic look. He sits up again, moves his hand to grab Hajime's and his fingers wrap around it to hold it, too afraid that he could just disappear any moment.

“That won't happen.”

“It will and you know it,” Hajime tells him. “You just don't want to admit it to yourself.”

And Tooru somehow understands those words, thinks about the whole situation, accepts it in his head, but he just can't bring himself to say it's true. “I'm sorry, Iwa-chan. I... I really...” His voice wavers and that forced denial is nowhere to be found now that he truly needs it. “I don't want this to happen,” _not to us._

Hajime glances at their intertwined fingers and his free hand then moves on Tooru's face. He observes that warm hazel of his eyes, a color he learned to love so long ago, but that too has something different in it, but he isn't quite sure of what it is. And then his eyes move to his lip, a certain memory flashing before his eyes as if it happened just in front of him in this very moment.

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, where there is no more sign of that cut. “It went away; there's nothing left here, huh? I'm... I'm glad.” Tooru's reaction is to lean into the touch, feeling rough calluses on the soft skin of his cheek. “Don't worry about that.”

“Ushiwaka noticed it, right?”

“Huh?”

Hajime looks away. “It had just happened when he found you...”

Tooru understands. “Yeah.” He pulls away from Hajime's touch, looks up and remembers him. “He asked me what happened and at first I told him it was just an accident, but then I couldn't bring myself to lie to him. He had already figured out anyway.”

Hajime laughs; and it's strained. But genuine. “He's slowly starting to get you, huh?”

Tooru blinks. And all of his burdens just go.

He pouts. “It seems so. I'm not particularly pleased with that...” When Hajime hears that face, hears the ever persistent childish tone spilling out of his lips, he starts laughing. He laughs so hard that Tooru ends up jumping slightly, watching him in confusion. “Iwa-chan?”

Hajime laughs.

Because even when he won't be able to be at Tooru's side, there's going to be someone just as good for him to take care of him.

“Why are you laughing?”

It takes the spiker a good minute before he's able to calm down. Then he shakes his head. “It's nothing... it's just... The two of you. You are like a cat and a dog when it comes to the way you are, so it's weird... Picturing you together.”

Tooru flinches. “Weird?” He flinches also because he's actually questioning that.

Hajime shakes his head. “It's not really a bad thing. You are going to be able to complete each other, when the time comes.”

Tooru swallows. “You mean the way you and I complete each other?”

Hajime's eyes widen for a split second, before he shakes his head and finally lets go of Tooru's hand. He moves forward, sits down on his lap and presses their foreheads against each other. “It's going to be even better. He'll succeed where I failed,” _he'll make you fly and reach the top you so deserve._

Then, he kisses him and Tooru's eyes widen as his breathing stops. He feels everything Hajime feels for him, all the affection, all the care, all the kindness... All the _love._

It lasts an instant and immediately Hajime is pulling back and Tooru finds himself wanting to feel it all again once more, but also knows that won't happen. He feels tears threatening to come out again and everything he needs to stop it is to wrap his arms around his _best friend_ and it's all gone.

The way Hajime's hugging him is making him feel warm and wanted, and Hajime isn't speaking, but he's telling him to let go and take his own road. “Go with him,” Hajime whispers, and Tooru buries his face in his shoulder.

.

.

.

That night they sleep together, Tooru resting his head against Hajime's chest and Hajime with his arms wrapped around him. It's something they grew into and it's something that'll never stop, even far into the future.

Tooru loves this of Hajime, the way he makes him feel, safe from everything that could possibly harm him. And he can't deny he missed this for all this time.

He sighs contently and presses himself closer.

 

.

.

.

 

That night, Tooru dreams of white feathers and pure, bright gold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is.  
> Please kill me. Too much heartache after this.
> 
> I'm sorry, Iwa-chaaaaan! i love you, but I had to do this! I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry.
> 
> ***
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, guys! I hope this story isn't too boring for you; I'm really working hard not to make it and I promise it's going to end soon, as we're almost reaching the end of the first part. 
> 
> Still, I do have a part two in store, but I don't know whether to write it or not. I'll see what you guyst say first, if you want to read it or not.
> 
> For now, thanks for following so far and thank you for Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks! <3


	10. It's Always Been And Always Will Be, Oikawa Tooru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenjirō wanted to play with him.
> 
> Tooru wanted to beat him, to be stronger.

“So, Oikawa-kun... It seems you have made your choice after all.”

“Yes, Mirasaki-sensei,” he says with a smile. “Do I have to bring anything else, or is this everything you need?”

She smiles gently, putting the small pile of papers on the desk in front of herself, ready to examine them before starting the procedure. “Nothing else, Oikawa-kun. Leave the rest to me. You are free to go.”

Tooru stands up from the chair, bows slightly. “Thank you.” He turns on his heel and walks to the door.

“Oikawa-kun?”

He stops, turning to look back at the consultant. “Yes?”

She's still smiling. “You've done great during these three years.”

He can't help but feel a bit flustered at her words, so unusual since she's still a woman like all the others and he's used to getting compliments from them, but somehow he feels that her words are sincere, _really_ sincere. He nods once again, thanks her once again, and only when he's sure she doesn't have anything else to tell him, he finally steps out of the office and into the empty hall.

Now that this is done, there's one more to go.

***

_He opens his eyes to find the sunlight peeking through the curtains. He blinks a couple of times to adjust to it and let the uncomfortable burn go and then he looks up, finding Hajime lying in the same position he was in last night, an arm still wrapped around Tooru's waist._

_He smiles, a true, genuine smile. He shifts, balancing himself on his arm until he reaches the spiker's face. He observes his relaxed features, so different from the usual frown that's there when he's awake. He loves that frown, loves that expression just because it's a part of him that can be recognized as his trademark._

_Still, he's very much tempted to take a picture of him, for the_ hard times _. He renounces at the idea the very next second; he doesn't need that, but something else instead._

_He lowers his head, placing a gentle kiss on the spiker's lips. It tastes both, bitter and sweet, but he doesn't pay attention to it, but only to the person underneath him. His best friend._

_Hajime shifts under him and he immediately pulls away. The warmth around his waist disappears when the hand moves to cover green eyes. “Nngh...”_

_Tooru can't help but chuckle._

_Hajime's never been a morning person after all._

“ _Good morning, Iwa-chan.”_

_Hajime exhales, then finally opens his eyes, looking at the other._

“ _Good morning.”_

***

One.

Two.

Three rings.

Still no answer.

Four.

Five.

Tooru waits for a good minute before ending the call as no answer arrives. He looks at his phone and huffs. So much about “let me know when you decide,” he muses. Then he glances at the numbers written on the illuminated screen.

16.45.

Wakatoshi must be at practice right now, as it's still quite early. And he really doesn't seem to be the type to mess around with his phone when something so important for him is going on. Tooru did it a couple of times. He's stopped doing that a while ago, of course, but it occurred in some rare cases when his girlfriends insisted with texting when they clearly knew he was at practice.

Oh, well.

It's not like he has much of a choice now, is it?

He walks past the school gates and turns the corner opposite to where his house is, walking slowly, as he has still plenty of time.

He hopes his decision is going to be the right one. This morning with Hajime has been like usual, and yet it felt like tons of things were missing. In the beginning there was some tension, especially on Hajime's part – Tooru could notice, he still remembers the way he shattered in his room; that night.

But now it's on him to see if the same won't happen to him.

He knows he's risking a lot – no, a lot is not enough. He's risking everything he's ever worked hard to build. He's offering it to be taken down piece by piece if only one thing goes wrong from now on. And he could be left with nothing.

He will be left with nothing. As soon as he takes his leave.

His heart clenches at the only thought of it.

Hajime.

His family.

Takeru.

It'll all be left behind and the only thing he'll be able to do is going to be a visit or two during the holidays. And the rest of his time is going to be spent with _him_ inside of a gym and a dorm, sometimes out in the city _._

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

.

He walks for a long time, but he doesn't really feel it ticking away and doesn't realize it until his eyes land on it.

The gates of Shiratorizawa.

The last time he's been here was a year ago, some weeks before the Interhigh, when his coach organized a practice match with them so they could inaugurate the new year and promise each other to give everything they can so they can go against each other in another official match. Shiratorizawa and Seijō had taken their places in the prefecture's finals for years.

However, as Tooru's been given a major role that year, everything went differently.

When the coach saw how much their loss broke him, and Hajime, and all the others soon after, he refused the other team's proposal this year. He said they have fallen a bit behind and that they needed to get some missing pieces back.

But Tooru knows he did it for him.

So the team wouldn't crumble even more. Because this year he's (he was, at this point) captain.

Tooru regrets not having asked for Hajime to take his place.

But he doesn't regret what they've accomplished.

He walks in, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, because even now he's risking to be kicked out, since he doesn't belong to that place. And maybe he could get in trouble in his own school and he can't exactly afford that after he's been requested from the best university in the State.

He tells himself he's foolish, because he could've waited until their practice was over and for Wakatoshi to come out before approaching him. And yet, he's not even bothering to change his mind.

He walks toward the gyms, remembers where the volleyball team is set – thankfully the bus is parked next to the entrance, so he's definitely sure he's going to find them. The door is slightly opened, and he can hear the squeaking noise of trainers and balls being hit, spiked onto the floor.

He climbs the four stairs slowly and when his nose is inches by the door, he closes his eyes. Just for a moment.

And that moment seems like an eternity.

An eternity after which his life is going to be turned over by one hundred and eighty degrees and he's going to start it all anew, with new foundations, new bonds (one new bond) and this time, there are going to be no excuses – he'll have to be the best, he'll have to give his very best.

He takes in a deep breath.

_'Please, let it be the right choice.'_

He exhales.

And then he's pushing the door open slowly, his eyes finally having their vision of Shiratorizawa's main gym, of every single player being the raw being he is because nobody's watching. Tooru scans every single person in there and there's a weird feeling in his stomach when he realizes the whole team is in there – it's probably because the year is about to end. They are doing the same thing Seijō is too; playing with the first and second years as much as they can before it's all over.

They sure aren't going easy on them.

Wakatoshi spikes successfully through the blocks and the libero fails to receive it. The ball slams onto the floor and bounces high in the air.

Tooru watches it.

And then he's taking a step forward, arms reaching up for it.

It comes to him and fits into his hands perfectly.

He brings it closer to himself to inspect it, but it doesn't last any more than a couple of seconds. Because he's been noticed now. He's been noticed.

“Oikawa?”

He smiles. It isn't fake, but it isn't a hundred percent genuine either – he's not really enjoying being surrounded by people who kept breaking him for years. “Good afternoon, sorry for the intrusion,” he says lightly, taking a firmer hold on the ball with his left hand while waving to the players with his right.

He sees Wakatoshi walking towards him, moving under the net and then speeding up until he's a few steps away. “Hello,” he greets him, polite as always and it takes Tooru a while to notice the others are slowly gathering behind him, watching him with vivid curiosity, in silence.

That is, until Satori walks to Wakatoshi's side, leaning casually on the wing spiker's shoulder, making him raise an eyebrow. “Oho-ho, Oikawa-san! What brings you here? Are you here to spy on us? Are you really so desperate? Be aware, if our coach finds you here, you'll be in looots of trouble.” He makes sure to emphasize that last sentence – Tooru knows it's true though. Their coach isn't someone he'd want to mess with – he thanks God he isn't in the gym in this very moment.

Tooru smirks, accepting the obvious challenge. He's not going to let him provoke him. “I don't need any of those things, Sato-chan! I already know everything there is to know about you. But I'm not here as an Aobajōsai player,” he tells him. Satori rolls his eyes.

Wakatoshi immediately shrugs him off of him, before looking back at Tooru. “You don't need to justify yourself.” He probably already figured out he needs to talk to him, Tooru muses. He can see it in his eyes (when did he ever learn to read him like this? Maybe he's wrong; he hopes he is).

Wakatoshi turns to his teammates. “I believe we can allow ourselves to end practice earlier for today.”

It is Kenjirō who walks out behind him. “Don't say things that aren't like you, Ushijima-san. It's not like there's much time left anyway. We could make Oikawa-san wait for us in the locker rooms.” He then shifts his attention to Tooru. “Would you mind?”

Tooru smirks. “Not at all.”

Kenjirō nods. “Good. No one except us players ever goes in there, so the coach shouldn't find you. We have more or less forty-five minutes left and then you can do whatever you came here to do.”

Tooru glances at Wakatoshi for a second, to see if he has something to say about it, but as no complaint of anything comes out, he nods once again. Wakatoshi immediately takes a step forward, a “follow me” about to slip out of his mouth, when Kenjirō grabs his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

Wakatoshi looks at him, but don't meet his setter's, as Kenjirō's eyes never leave Tooru. “I'll show him the way, Ushijima-san. You are free to keep going with the others.” Before Wakatoshi even has the time to open his mouth, Kenjirō is in front of Tooru. “Follow me.”

Tooru finally focuses on him, gives him a nod.

The walk to the locker room is short; as soon as they step out of the gym and into the corridor, Tooru finds out it is behind the first door on the right. When they are in, Tooru's eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly. This place has definitely changed since he last got here: it's bigger now, with more lockers and the shower room seems renewed as well – this school definitely spends a lot on their students.

“This place is huge. Our locker rooms looks like a rat hole compared to this,” Tooru says, still looking around.

His contemplation doesn't last long though.

“Why are you here, Oikawa-san?” Kenjirō asks quietly, but the silence surrounding them is making it perfectly audible.

Tooru turns to face him, puts his hands in the pockets of his uniform. “I came here to talk to your captain.”

Kenjirō frowns at that. “Couldn't you just call him?”

“He didn't answer,” Tooru immediately tells him. “Besides, this isn't something I want to talk about over the phone.” He hopes the 'mind your own business' is clear in the tone of his voice – this is something between him and Wakatoshi. And no one else.

“Couldn't you at least come here when practice was over?” The question comes out coldly, and the gaze fixed on the older setter is definitely bringing it out. He isn't happy to see him here, Tooru is too good at reading people not to notice.

“Say, are you always so sociable?”

Kenjirou's expression doesn't change at all. “To be honest, it's you who pisses me off.”

Tooru smirks. There it is, the sweet, sweet truth. “Oh, now I see you right, Ken-chan.” He watches the other's eyebrow twitch at the nickname. “May I know what I have done to earn this kind of feelings from you?”

They have barely even spoken to each other. Tooru has always been so obsessed with Wakatoshi that he never really bothered with anyone else from that team (sure, Satori has had his part in pissing off his team during their games, but he mostly teased his spikers – Hajime can't stand him, in fact). So he doesn't really get it.

Kenjirou rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed, and then dismisses the question with an arrogant wave of his hand.

“Why are you here, Oikawa-san?”

Tooru hums. “Why so interested?”

Kenjirō only shrugs. “I simply don't understand why you bothered to come here just to talk to Ushijima-san. Usually the only words you address to him are insults and refusals; so I'm quite curious to hear what it is that brings you here that is so different from every other time.”

Tooru hears the slight, almost imperceptible, high pitch in his voice. The brat's obviously getting nervous. But he doesn't even bother to find an excuse – there is no reason to do so. “Ushiwaka came to me with a proposal a while ago. I'm here to give him my answer.”

“It is your usual 'no', I suppose.”

Tooru blinks, not understanding. “Huh?”

Kenjirō's hand grabs the fabric of his shorts and clutches tightly. “If you came here to give him another disappointment, other than disturbing our practice, I'm asking you to leave. I'm going to tell him; it wouldn't be anything new on the table anyway.”

Tooru remains interdicted for a moment. Well, he didn't expect _that_. But the younger setter seems to know something and Tooru wants to find out just how much there is in that little head of his. “You're taking for granted that I'll refuse, but _what_ is it that I'm going to refuse?”

Kenjirō sighs heavily and then walks towards the closest bench, sitting then down on it. He rests his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward slightly. Tooru can tell he's really, _really_ getting nervous.

“Ushijima-san asked you to go to Tokyo with him.”

Tooru doesn't know how to reply to that – it seems this is not just a matter between him and Wakatoshi. So he keeps listening, just to find out where he's standing.

“I really don't understand why he wants you so much. Ushijima-san is strong, very strong even as he is now. He most certainly doesn't need you or any of your pathetic whims. - he looks up, meeting Tooru's eyes and the latter's breath hitches in his throat – You hurt him during all these years, you know? So if you're here just to rub salt in his wounds, you'd better not.”

Tooru hears the threat under that tone and at first he doesn't have an idea of how to react. But then it gives him a suspicion. His lips curve up in a smirk. “What's with all this interest in Ushiwaka-chan's feelings?”

Kenjirō stands up abruptly – so much about sitting down and calm himself down, Tooru muses. “He's my teammate and my friend. I don't want to keep watching him getting upset and disappointed whenever there's something going on that has to do with you!”

Tooru only rolls his eyes. “If this wasn't my first time talking to you, I would be asking you if it's long since you've become his adorable wifey. Could it be that you're actually in love with this 'teammate and friend' of yours?”

Kenjirō stiffens.

No, he completely freezes, eyes wide and mouth opening. And then closing.

Tooru doesn't fail, _can't fail_ to notice it. He blinks a couple of times. _'Is this guy serious?'_ But Kenjirō doesn't move. “You know,” Tooru begins, “this is the time when you should be saying 'you're wrong, Oikawa-san, it's not like that'.” He even does a decent job in imitating the younger setter's voice.

But as Kenjirō doesn't say anything in response, it finally dawns on him. He stays quiet for a couple of seconds and then chuckles. “Ooh, I would've never though Ushiwaka-san was your type! I thought you were more into sweet and cute ones.”

At Tooru's teasing, Kenjirō finally wakes up from his daze. Angry. “What the hell could you possibly know about it?!” he snaps. “Besides, I don't see why it should be any of your business.” Tooru watches him in disbelief – as if the brat wasn't just making his way into _his_ business -, but lets him continue without interrupting him. Kenjirō takes in a deep breath, trying to slow down the blood rushing in his veins, trying to reassure himself, tell himself to keep his cool. “It's one-sided. He only thinks about you anyway and who could possibly blame him? You're the great Oikawa-san, the only one everyone has eyes for, and no matter how much I try to get some attention for myself, there's nothing in store for me but refusal or ignorance.”

***

“ _Ushijima-san, where are you going next year?” The question comes spontaneously, so much it makes Kenjirō wonder why it slipped from his lips like this. Why is it so natural to want to know where he's going?_

_The spiker jumps, hits the ball in another successful, powerful serve. He lands on the floor perfectly and then turns to look at him._

“ _Shiratorizawa.”_

_Kenjirō's eyes widen in awe._

_And he realizes it. For the first time._

'I'll follow you. Anywhere.'

***

“ _The 'Best Setter' award goes to Oikawa Tooru! Congratulations!”_

 _Kenjirō watches the said setter meet with the judges and commission to get his prize and then he stands next to them, Wakatoshi,_ _Y_ _ū_ _and other players he doesn't remember facing in a match, for a picture._

_He doesn't understand why Wakatoshi is glancing at his side, at him every now and then. There's a weird glint in his eyes. After two years with him, Kenjirō learns to recognize it._

_He just doesn't understand it._

_._

“ _Come to Shiratorizawa.”_

_The first time he hears him say it in person is right after the ceremony. The teams have been dismissed and Wakatoshi has followed Tooru after he wandered off without his ace._

_Kenjirō accidentally happens to be at the vending machine to get some juice – he needs to put some sugar in his system as this last game has gotten him more than exhausted. He feels like he could collapse at any moment._

_He doesn't mean to overhear their conversation. He should be leaving, but he just can't bring himself to walk away._

“ _No,” comes the Kitagawa Daiichi's setter's answer._

“ _Don't be a fool, Oikawa. You know-”_

“ _I refuse, Ushiwaka-chan.”_

_Then there are steps._

_And more steps._

_Kenjirō swears he can hear something shattering. But it isn't real; nothing fell, nothing was thrown, nothing was broken-_

“ _Oikawa-”_

“ _No. I gotta go. My team's waiting for me.”_

_Tooru suddenly pops from behind the corner and Kenjirō's eyes widen. He watches him approach him, eyes fixed on the floor, a pained grimace plastered on his face._

_Kenjirō is left unnoticed._

_***_

“ _Congratulations on graduating! Good luck for next year, Ushijima-san.”_

“ _Thank you.”_

_There is no goodbye._

_Nothing else but silence._

_***_

“ _Shirabu, come over here!”_

_Kenjirō looks up, the coach waving his hand slightly to help him notice where he is. The setter immediately composes himself, straightens up, wipes the sweat away with his shirt and then runs to him._

“ _What is it, coach?”_

“ _What school are you going to choose for next year?”_

“ _Shiratorizawa.” There's no second thought. No breathing that could threaten to make him seriously think about it._

_The coach looks at him confused, glances at the few letters he's holding in his hands. “I'm sorry, but I don't have a letter coming from them for you. I have one from Seijō, one from Karasuno and one from Ougiminami. Are you sure you don't want any of them? They are good schools, you know?”_

“ _I'll be attending Shiratorizawa. Ushijima-san is at Shiratorizawa.”_

_The coach raises an eyebrow._

“ _It's been a year since he's been gone from here. You sure you still want to play with him?”_

“ _Yes.”_

_The man hums. “But at this point you'll have to take the entrance exam. I don't think I can get you in with just a letter of recommendation, even though it's the same school. And trust me about those tests; those things are hard and-”_

“ _I'll study.”_

“ _Huh?”_

_Kenjirō looks him in the eyes. “I'll study. Starting next week, I'll be retiring from the club.”_

_***_

_._

“ _Kenjirō, you're still studying?”_

“ _Yeah, mum. Leave me alone.”_

“ _But-”_

“Leave me alone.”

'I'll get there.'

_._

_***_

_His heart is beating faster than after a game against a strong opponent when he gets into the main hall of Shiratorizawa. He rushes to the table with the results, ready to see if he got in. He believes his ribcage is going to crumble, his veins explode. But it doesn't matter._

_He pushes through the crowd of people standing in his way._

_And then he finally reaches it._

_'Shirabu Kenjirō. Admitted.”_

_All of those burdens just go._

_He returns home, body light, mind blank. Doesn't say hi to his mother who looks at him worried and instead goes upstairs to his room._

_He collapses. Sleeps for a whole day after that and wakes up with a smile for the first time in a while._

_He did it._

_He's going to see Wakatoshi soon._

_***_

“ _Wakatoshi-san!”_

 _He runs up to him._ 'Look at me.'

_His own eyes widen when he sees him turning around, and he's close, so close-_

“ _Hello.”_

 _He stops._ 'Huh?' _He blinks a couple of times, trying to digest it. That expression on his face, the tone of his voice, his posture... Everything is so... Ordinary. No surprise, no 'I'm glad to see you', no... Nothing._

_Still, it's better than what it could have been._

_Kenjirō smiles, truly smiles. Despite all the pain he's feeling right now in his chest. He overlooks that strong feeling in his gut that's threatening to make him collapse on his knees and throw up everything he ate this morning and whatever else there is inside his stomach at the moment, until his very own soul is out as well._

“ _Are you surprised to see me here, Ushijima-san?”_

“ _Not particularly.”_

_***_

_He soon becomes a regular._

_Tossing to Wakatoshi becomes a regular thing too._

_***_

_They meet with Tooru and Hajime sooner than he expected._

_First the practice game the two school organize every year – Shiratorizawa wins, of course. It means nothing, but Kenjirō can't help to smile when he sees Oikawa Tooru crushed in defeat for the fifth year (his fourth) in a row._

_He hates to lose indeed – they both do, but he has Wakatoshi by his side. So he's never going to lose._

_Then it's the official match at Interhigh._

_Shiratorizawa wins and advances to Nationals._

_As always._

_Oikawa Tooru tries to keep his cool but ends up collapsing on the same bench where he always does. The_ same _bench behind the_ same _corner. And Kenjirō is on the_ same _spot, picking the_ same _type of juice from the vending machine, listening to the_ same _words coming from his own wing spiker._

“ _Come to Shiratorizawa,” Wakatoshi asks._

 _Kenjirō chuckles._ 'He won't come.'

“ _I refuse!”_

“ _Oikawa-”_

“ _Go the fuck away from here!”_

_Wakatoshi comes up from behind the corner, looking clearly upset – no one but Kenjirō can recognize the clear disappointment and still innocent and naive hope, that when he asks him again after the Spring High, the other setter will say yes._

_It hurts to know he won't stop asking._

_But it's an undeniable pleasure when he sees Tooru crumpled and crushed beside that worthless ace of his, crying, sobbing and promising the_ same _“we'll show them next time” that will never come true._

 _He clearly can't lose to them, to_ him.

_Kenjirō stops for a second to watch the scene and a different type of feeling is being born inside of his chest; is it... crave? – why is he craving for something like that? They are losers, they are weak, even if they're together and trying so hard even if they know, deep down, that it's all worthless. There's nothing to want there, is it?_

“ _Shirabu.”_

_He watches Hajime's embrace getting tighter._

“ _Coming.”_

_There's nothing to want, he tells himself._

_None of that is worth it._

_***_

_Wakatoshi's third year comes soon;_ too soon _for Kenjirō's taste. Now he feels like shit all over again._

_On the opening ceremony, after welcoming the first years, the volleyball club reunites in the gym after a long summer where they've only seen each other for a week for a training camp with other power schools from all over the country._

_Wakatoshi stands next to his setter, eyes looking away and wondering about whole other things._

_Kenjirō watches him._

_It is not awe anymore._

_He finds out he's in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi._

_And for some reason, he isn't happy about it like he should be, because being in love with him isn't easy but on a whole other level of hard and painful. But this is his last year, so he's going to let him know. He's going to make him see._

_He's going to-_

_***_

“ _Oikawa.”_

“ _No.”_

_***_

_They win at the Interhigh again. Seijou loses again. They are going to Nationals again._

_He's going to tell him. Today._

“ _Ushijim-”_

“ _Oikawa!”_

_His eyes widen._

_Wakatoshi doesn't even hear him. He walks away, out of the court and into that hall Kenjirō's learned to know so well during the past years. He knows where Tooru is going. He knows where Wakatoshi is about to go._

_He can tell that today's been harder than usual on Tooru. He seems more broken than usual and as much as Kenjirō enjoys to see him like that – because he needs to be honest; without his tosses, Wakatoshi wouldn't be able to spike -, there is worry now._

_He can't bring himself to follow this time._

_He watches Seijō's ace standing up to Shiratorizawa's ace, green eyes wide and glaring, and wet. He walks up to them, puts a hand on Wakatoshi's back._

“ _Leave him alone, Ushijima,” Hajime tells him._

“ _No.”_

“ _I said to leave him alone!”_

 _Wakatoshi stiffens, the left hand all of those people fear so much clenches into a tight fist. Kenjirō's hand is on his wrist immediately. “Ushijima-san.” He feels muscles relaxing, regularity returning to his breathing. “Let's just go. We won,”_ they're not worth it. _Wakatoshi nods ever so slightly, turns his back to Hajime, whispers and almost inaudible – but the one supposed to hear it hears it more than clearly; he knows he's just outside that door, waiting for his ace - “It's your fault, for being so weak.”_

_Hajime's teeth grit, but he doesn't reply to it._

_The last thing Kenjirō sees from him are tears and then he's focusing back on his ace. Only his ace._

“ _Are you alright?”_

_Wakatoshi doesn't reply to him._

_He's losing after all; even though he's refusing him, Oikawa Tooru still wins. He always wins._

_Him._

_***_

Tooru blinks. “You... envy me?” He just can't believe it.

Kenjirō looks away, so angry to be at his mercy as well. He hates it, he hates him. _'How could I not be? Ushijima-san only looks at you, everyone just looks at you, because you're so good at what you do, better than what I'll ever be.'_

“There's no room for others beside you, is there?”

He hates losing.

***

“ _Ushijima-san?”_

_Gold looks up at him and the shiver running down Kenjirō's spine leaves an anything but pleasing tingling on his skin. He doesn't like that look; that empty, disappointed look, which is plastered all over his face. “What's the matter, Ushijima-san?”_

_He watches his head lower and when he's sure he's not being watched anymore, his eyes travel on his shoulders, his arms and then his naked chest he wants nothing but kiss and nibble and bite- Make his. But he can't._

_He walks to the bench where the ace is sitting, grabs the towel put next to him and gently starts to dry his hair. He makes sure not to come in contact with it with his fingers – or any other part of him – because if that happens, he'll melt. He'll turn into nothing and lose all of his restrains._

_Wakatoshi lets him do his thing, leans his head a bit forward._

_Kenjirō feels something tearing up._

_He lets his hand move the towel separating them just a little, just enough for two of his finger to take a strand of Wakatoshi's hair to play with. It's incredibly soft, so unlike what anyone could think about Wakatoshi. He is a good person; people are just too stupid to get it._

_Kenjirō gets it._

“ _Oikawa.”_

_But why doesn't Wakatoshi see?_

_Why isn't he celebrating now that they won again and are ready for Nationals again? They are winning, they are the best, Ushijima Wakatoshi is the best... So why isn't he happy? Of course he isn't happy, Kenjirō knows. He doesn't want to let himself be when that goddamn bastard is not here._

_This time he doesn't stay quiet._

_The towel drops form his hands to the spiker's lap._

_“Why do you still keep trying even when it's useless?”_

_Wakatoshi looks up and, as tired as he's looking right now, he is showing confusion, eagerness for clarification. The fact that he doesn't understand it (or that he doesn't want to understand it) makes Kenjirō even angrier._

_“Why don't_ _you understand that_ he _doesn't want you?!”_

_He watches gold eyes widen and it hurts so. fucking. much. He hates when he's like this. He wants so bad to make it go away, for Wakatoshi to finally to be his instead and to make him forget about Oikawa fucking Tooru. He doesn't deserve this pain; nobody does in fact._

_But Wakatoshi doesn't seem to get angry at his words. He isn't showing anything but that damn desire that isn't meant for him._

_“Because I want him.” He's sincere; simple._

_And Kenjirō takes the words like a punch in the guts. He feels nauseous, tired... Cold._

“ _Why do you keep hurting yourself?! You have to stop it. Forget about him... Can't you just look away from him for_ once _? If you do, you...” He pauses. Observes Wakatoshi's eyes. He's asking him to keep going, wants to understand. So he makes him. “If you do, you'll find out there are other people around you and that can give you just what you're looking for from him.”_

_Wakatoshi listens to his every word, but Kenjirō doesn't see realization dawning upon him._

“ _Other people? I don't understand...”_

“ _I'm talking about myself.”_

_Still nothing._

_Kenjirō exhales shakily, brings both of his hands to his face and rubs it with them. He needs to say it. Right now. No matter the consequences, because that burden has become too heavy by now. He can't hold up under it anymore._

“I like you, Ushijima-san.”

_Wakatoshi's lips part ever so slightly, as if wanting to say something, but nothing comes out. And Kenjirō doesn't care; because he's not refusing him in this very moment. He takes a step closer._

_And another one._

_And the last one._

_Wakatoshi sits straight, keeps looking up._

_Kenjirō inhales, holds it in for one last second and then he lets his mind get blank. He moves forward, lowers down so he's straddling the spiker's lap. He watches his eyes widen for a split second before he leans forward and finally gets the first taste of the lips he's been craving for so long._

_He moves his lips over them, doesn't bother to worry about Wakatoshi's muscles growing stiffer and stiffer with every shift he makes on his lap. Slowly, he moves his hands to grip on those broad shoulders, his tongue comes out to brush Wakatoshi's bottom lip and then he gently pushes against it and parts both of them, entering his mouth._

_He sighs, moves his hands down Wakatoshi's arms, moves his hips forward to gently rut into Wakatoshi's, feeling an uncomfortable feeling in his pants._

_And then it snaps. Suddenly the big hands of the spiker are on his arms._

_Brown eyes widen and he pulls away from the kiss, trying to understand, and in that exact moment he is pushed back. He manages to get his balance right and ends up standing on his own feet again instead of falling on the floor. But this time it's different._

_This time it isn't him who's looking down on Wakatoshi, but the other way around._

_He' looks up, now terrified._

_Because he doesn't want to be looked with_ those _eyes,_ that _expression._

_He exhales shakily before he gets pushed back again, Wakatoshi stepping aside, putting on his shirt, which he was holding on the bench, and then throwing his bag over his shoulder._

“ _Ushijima-san,” it comes out as a quiet mumble, but it isn't graced with an answer._

_Wakatoshi gives him his back. It's always his back and as always, he can't reach it. He understand he never will. Not anymore._

_He_ is _refusing him after all._

_Wakatoshi leaves without turning back, no 'goodbye' coming out of his lips._

_Kenjirō knows now._

_***_

“You've always had everything... Without even trying.”

He's trembling now.

He lost. _To Oikawa Tooru._

It's always been and always will be, Oikawa Tooru.

“So don't even try looking for excuses or play dumb. You don't know anything,”

Tooru looks at him, expression soft now, the whole wicked and teasing facade from before now faded away. He's watching a setter crumble and he knows what it means, what it feels like. He really does, probably much more than the second-year setter does himself.

It is Kenjirō who doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how many sacrifices he's had to make to chase after them. He can't even imagine the number, or better – the seriousness of the injuries he brought upon himself to try to stand up to Wakatoshi.

Kenjirō wanted to play _with_ him.

Tooru wanted to _beat_ him, to be stronger.

Sure, he might have not killed himself with studies and struggles to get into Shiratorizawa, but he killed himself with practice; long, strenuous hours of running, jumping, tossing, spiking... Until his legs gave out, his arms hurt. Until Hajime had to carry him out of their gym and stuff him with painkillers and food to prevent him to just give into his weakness and get seriously sick.

Tooru knows the boy in front of him never cried, was never brought to a situation where crying is everything you can possibly do and it's still going to leave you at the same bottom you've always been at.

He doesn't know how it felt to be told, every single year, that everything he's done was a mistake and nothing more, a simple whim because of his insignificant pride and that he should just regret it, leave it all behind and start somewhere else, where all those struggles won't matter because apparently “the team I'm at is the strongest, so we always win”.

But Tooru doesn't tell him.

Any of it.

He lowers his head slightly, looks away.

“I guess I don't.”

Kenjirō looks up, clearly startled both by the lack of retort and softness of those words. He bites his lip.

“Do you feel anything for Ushijima-san?”

Hazel eyes widen and his body is once again a mess of rushing blood, hard-beating heart, nerves threatening to explode and... A weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. And he knows that one very good. But he orders it stay calm and when it refuses, he orders his mind to ignore it.

“I don't think I know what you're talking about.”

Kenjirō sighs.

“ _Do you like Ushijima-san?”_

His mind isn't cooperating either.

His heart is quickening its beat and he feels like his ribcage is going to explode every second now. His vision gets clouded and the overwhelming sensation of fainting makes his legs wobbly.

But the other setter doesn't worry about it. He keeps watching him. Waiting for him to answer.

“I-”

Suddenly the door of the room is opened and the whole team slowly walks in, led by Wakatoshi. Reon walks close to him and when he spots Kenjirō, he raises an eyebrow. “Oh, here you are, Shirabu. Why did you stay here instead of getting back to the gym? We were missing a player.”

Satori smirks before the setter is able to even open his mouth. “Well, he's probably been marking the territory.” The way he says it is mocking, but not really mean. A couple of teammates snicker as they walk to the benches where they left their bags, while Kenjirō glares daggers at him. When the middle blocker turns his back at him, muttering a “so cold”, the second-year gives one last glance to Tooru and then moves away from him.

Satori sits on the bench next to where Tooru is standing, removes his shirt and puts it beside him. His eyes move up to look at him and the setter looks back, not knowing what to expect now.

There's never been a particularly good relationship between them – well, there was never a good relationship between Tooru and any of the Shiratorizawa players. But with him, there's always been more... teasing, perhaps? Tooru's always been a troublesome setter for Satori to guess and Satori's always been the annoying middle blocker who managed to block lots of Hajime's strongest spikes.

“What?”

Satori licks his lips. “What are you doing here, Oikawa- _san_ ? Did you come here to check on _him_?”

Tooru understands from that that the middle blocker knows something about him and Wakatoshi; he just doesn't know how much of it. But still... He smirks, and the curve of his lips doesn't match the dangerous look in his eyes at all. “I don't have the need to do anything of the sort.” The way it comes out probably sounded more wrong than it should have, to the other guys in there at least, but it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter that it makes think about the existence of a possible relationship between him and their captain.

Because there is none.

And if anyone asks, he's going to tell them.

“Then why are you here?”

“I don't think it's any of your business, Sato-chan.”

The grin on Satori's face only grows. “You interrupted our training, so I think it's lots of my business.” He licks his lips once again. “Did you come here for some particular _activities_ perhaps?” He makes sure to put a lot of emphasis on the word 'activities'.

Tooru's eyes widen-

Oh.

Fuck.

He knows, doesn't he?

But he doesn't let it throw him off his feet.

“I have something to discuss with Ushiwaka-chan.”

Satori finishes undressing himself by then and is now putting on his school uniform. “Oh... _Discuss something with Ushiwaka-chan, huh?”_

At that point Wakatoshi comes behind him, two towels hanged on his left arm, only wearing his underwear. “Tendō. Enough.”

The middle blocker turns his head to the side, to glance at him from the corner of his eye and when he notices Wakatoshi's cold glare, something he reserves for those who ever mention Oikawa Tooru along with a mocking or mean comment about him, he sighs and raises both of his arms in surrender. He got his message crystal clear.

Then Wakatoshi is looking at Tooru again and the setter closes his mouth, waiting.

“I need to take a shower but I'll make sure not to stay long. Can you wait for a little more?”

Tooru doesn't even bother to mock him, to act pissed off. He only nods and sits on the bench beside Satori, who now stands up and starts putting all of his things neatly in his bag. The other players are slowly starting to head out; among them there's Kenjirō, who stops in his tracks just before exiting the room. He turns around for one last glare towards Tooru, who sticks his tongue out in return before looking away with a clearly irritated pout.

Satori finally straightens up, looks around only to find a large room with only himself, Tooru and Wakatoshi, who's in the showers. He grins once again, eyes moving down to meet the setter's for the briefest of moments.

He's never been against the idea of having him in his team.

It's a shame his abilities ended up wasted at Seijō – he doesn't tell him that, of course.

He opens the door of the locker room, glances back one last time, the grin still there. “Practice safe sex, kids,” he tells him and Tooru stiffens, but he's gone before he even finds the will and words to reply.

When finally alone, Tooru allows himself to relax. His shoulders lose stiffness and his back feels less heavy. He leans his elbows on his thighs and his chin on his hands and closes his eyes.

Finally.

Silence.

The noise of the shower room in the back is pleasing and it's helping him think about what he's going to tell the man who's behind that thin wall. He feels a shiver running down his spine at the thought of them finally being alone – he isn't sure what his reaction's going to be when he tells him.

He gets distracted soon enough.

He doesn't notice the sound stopping and wakes up from his daze only when Wakatoshi's steps are getting closer. He turns around and his eyes immediately see the spiker ,going towards his locker with only a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing more, and a towel in his hands, which he's using to dry his hair.

Tooru orders himself not to look at those muscles, that ripped skin, the way it all perfectly moves together when Wakatoshi moves his arms. He turns his head away, pretends not to have seen anything to make the damn heat in his cheeks disappear.

For a while there's only the sound of a towel being dropped and clothes being pulled out of the bag and Tooru doesn't feel comfortable. He swallows a couple of times, before taking in a deep breath. “Did you tell Sato-chan about what happened between us?”

It probably isn't the best topic to start with, but it's better than just sitting there and listening to Ushijima Wakatoshi dressing up and trying everything he can not to turn around and look at him. It would end... not appropriately.

“Yes.”

The sound of the belt being buckled.

Tooru blinks. He didn't expect _that._ But for some unknown reason, he can't bring himself to get angry. Instead, there's a slight piece of curiosity in the back of his mind. “Why?”

“Because he asked.”

“Oh.”

Wakatoshi's movements stop. Tooru turns his head to look at him, now sure that there's a green light, and sees him turn around, now fully dressed, neatly and... flawlessly. Tooru watches him, sees gold staring back. It probably dawns on Wakatoshi as soon as their eyes meet. “I shouldn't have?”

Tooru sighs. Of course he shouldn't have. But there's nothing that can be done at this point. “Don't worry about it.”

Wakatoshi nods and then, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder, walks towards Tooru and places himself in front of him.

Tooru looks up.

“What is it that you wanted to discuss with me?”

Tooru blinks. “Oh... Yeah,” he doesn't really know where to start from, the feeling in his gut starts to grow. “I wanted to talk to you about... Tokyo.”

Wakatoshi takes a step forward, his full attention given to the setter. “Have you made your decision?”

“Yes, I have.”

Wakatoshi gets ready to listen.

But then Tooru stands up, shakes his head. “But I don't want to talk about it in a locker room. As large as it may be, it still stinks pretty bad. Can we go elsewhere?”

Wakatoshi seems to think about it for a moment, but then gives him a slight nod. “Of course. Would you like to go and have something to eat?” he suggests and Tooru feels his heart starting to beat faster. Does Wakatoshi even realize he just asked him out on a date? Still... It's not what Tooru had in mind, even though a part of him is telling him to say yes, while the other part is asking for something more outrageous. He isn't about to ask him this. He isn't, he isn't, _he isn't-_

“Can we just go to your place instead? I would've asked you to come to mine, but my mother's home and she wouldn't leave us alone.” Because she knows who Ushijima Wakatoshi is. And as much as she knows how much Tooru's suffered because of him, she's also curious to meet him in person.

He watches Wakatoshi's expression, tries to read him. But this time, like most of the times, he gets nothing.

“Alright, then. Shall we go?”

Tooru nods and they head out.

The gym is quite close to the gates and they find themselves on the street in a little time. Tooru walks beside him, looks forward, feels his breath stabilizing again – it isn't hurting in his lungs anymore; what a relief – and then a thought pops in his mind, something that makes him feel funny.

“You know what? Let's stop by my place for a short while. I need to take a couple of things with me; besides, tomorrow is Sunday and I don't really want to bring my school bag around. It'll hurt my back, you know.”

Wakatoshi looks at him, finds him smiling slightly.

“As you wish.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 10. Woah, I can't believe I'm already this far, haha.
> 
> I'm suffering so bad for making Kenjirō go through all of this. But other than being a masochist, I believe I am a sadist too. So, yeah... I deserve to burn in hell.
> 
> I have nothing much to say about this chapter; I hope you're going to like it and I'll see you at the next one. 
> 
> Tendō is a sweetheart. Love him so much.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the Comments, Bookmarks and Kudos.


	11. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I suppose you are here to refuse my proposal after all.”
> 
> “Excuse me?”
> 
> Wakatoshi shrugs, mumbling a quiet “it seems like nothing has changed after all”.
> 
> Tooru hears it and something inside him makes him slam the chopsticks on the table, and it comes out stronger than he meant it, because he winces in surprise at his own action. “Of course something has changed!”
> 
> Wakatoshi looks at him seriously, but not quite understanding. “I don't understand.”

“I'm telling you, Ushiwaka-chan. Be nice to her,”

Their task is clear: Tooru has to go upstairs, take a quick shower, grab another bag, which shall be filled with spare clothes for tomorrow and something to wear for the night. Wakatoshi has to wait downstairs and in the meantime he must absolutely avoid saying anything too blunt or rudely honest to offend his mother. Tooru has told him to shut up and stay that way about five times ever since they turned into his street.

“I believe I am always nice to people, Oikawa.”

Tooru takes a step inside the house, and when he hears those words, he's almost tempted to shut the door in his face and make him wait outside. _Almost._

“Shut up.”

“Tooru! Is that you?” They hear the setter's mother calling for him from the kitchen. “Yeah, mom,” Tooru replies. Wakatoshi closes the door behind them before lowering down to take off his shoes. Tooru does the same and by the time they're standing up, they hear steps in the kitchen. The moment later, Tooru's mother is coming out of it, with a cloth in her hands.

“Is Hajime-kun with-”

She stops in the middle of her question when her brown eyes land on the man behind her son, “-you...” The cloth drops from her hands and she closes her mouth.

Wakatoshi notices Tooru's very similar to her. They have the same wavy brown hair and big brown eyes; also, she's got a very pretty face, though she's kind of missing in height. But still, Tooru has obviously gotten most of his traits from her. He watches as she moves her gaze from him to Tooru.

The setter smiles. “Hi, mom,” he greets her and then points at Wakatoshi with his thumb. “He's-” Before he's able to finish his sentence, Wakatoshi is making his way towards her, their shoulders brushing when he walks past him, and Tooru's eyes widen. _'Oh, fuck. If you aren't nice to her, I swear-'_

“I'm Ushijima Wakatoshi. It is a pleasure to meet you,” the spiker speaks, offering his hand to her for a handshake, which she takes. For a woman, she has a strong grip. Wakatoshi notices that too, but still works on balancing his own, to avoid to crush her hand.

“It's nice to meet you, too.” She's still clearly confused, not quite understanding. She looks at Tooru once again and he only shrugs. “I came to get a change of clothes because I'm thinking of staying at his place for tonight. I know it's sudden, but is it okay with you?” he asks before going upstairs.

Before she's able to answer, she finds the cloth that she slipped being handed back to her by Wakatoshi, who in the meantime bent and picked it up from the floor. She thanks him quietly, before nodding in approval. “It's okay, Tooru. Don't worry.”

“I'll be right back then.” He gives Wakatoshi a knowing look before turning his head to watch in front of himself and, soon, he disappears on the first floor.

Once alone, Tooru's mother turns to look at the spiker. “So, you're the famous Ushijima...”

Wakatoshi focuses his attention to her, nodding. “I suppose Oikawa has already talked to you about me.”

The woman chuckles. “He has actually filled my head with you if you wonder about that... And most of the times it wasn't really positive things.” she tells him, the truth – she figures Wakatoshi already knows, if all their meetings that Tooru described to her were true.

Wakatoshi doesn't speak, his eyes glance upstairs for the briefest of seconds.

She is straight to the point with him. Just like her son.

“Come with me,” she tells him and leads him into the kitchen. She puts the cloth onto the counter. “I don't really know the full story in details, but from what he told me, you ended up hurting him every time you-”

“It has never been my intention to hurt him,” he interrupts her. She turns around, eyes slightly wide, mouth open but no sound coming out, expecting for him to continue instead. And Wakatoshi does. “I am sorry for the way our matches affected him, but I couldn't have done anything different. I am my team's captain and ace, and to bring them victory is my duty. Oikawa has always been our opponent, and therefore, I had to do what I did.” He explains it to her, direct, but truthful. He hopes that it doesn't break Tooru's warning and that is _nice_ enough.

She seems to understand.

She leans on the counter, hazel eyes still fixed on him. But this time she smiles.

“I have asked him to join me, at Shiratorizawa.”

She finally lets out a laugh. “Yup. I know about that, Ushijima-kun.”

“You are free to call me by my first name.”

“Wakatoshi-kun, then. I still remember when the letter from Shiratorizawa came here. Your coach was interested in Tooru.”

Wakatoshi unconsciously licks his lips.

***

“ _Tooru! Look what came in the mail today!”_

_She runs to the hall, finding a sleepy Tooru walking down the stairs. She decided to let him stay at home and sleep in, since their tournament ended yesterday and Hajime politely asked to make him stay home, after bowing and apologizing for his rudeness – even though he's already a part of their family._

_She couldn't say no. She remembers how happy Tooru was, even though they lost and came in second. But the smile that was gracing his features when he showed her his 'Best Setter Award' was something even she has the rare privilege to see._

_He rubs his eyes with one hand and then, when he's finally next to her, he reaches out for the envelope she's holding. He takes it, doesn't look at it immediately and then staggers to the kitchen where breakfast is ready and awaiting for him. He sits in his usual spot, takes a sip of his milk and then his eyes finally lower down to the piece of paper._

_He drops his cup, spilling white all over the table._

“ _Tooru! What have you done?” His mother comes in the kitchen after hearing the noise, finds him on his feet, the letter held tightly in his hands._

“ _Throw it away.”_

_The woman looks at him._

_And then he crumples it before throwing it onto that milk, taking immediately a step back as if it was burning._

“ _Tooru!”_

“ _I said_ throw it away _!”_

_She looks at him for a long moment, notices his panting, tense body and... tearful face. She approaches him, but he doesn't let her touch him. Instead takes another step back, walks past her and runs up into his room._

_***_

_She comes to him in the afternoon, after she's sure he has cooled down from that first impact. She finds him in the bed, blanket covering him whole and face most likely buried in the pillow, deducing by the muffled sound of his breathing._

_She slowly walks to the futon, kneels down beside it and then puts the hand on top of what seems like his head. She doesn't uncover him – not until he's going to be ready._

“ _Tooru...”_

“ _I'm sorry,” comes his quiet mumble and she understands._

“ _It's nothing,” she tells him before lying down next to him, wrapping her arm around him. He moves slightly and then finally his head peeks from under the covers, when he raises them to finally see her. “Did you-”_

“ _Yes. It's gone.”_

_He nods, smiles ever so slightly and then closes his eyes. He feels his mother's fingers brushing the bangs away from his face and lets out a pleased sigh._

“ _Are you really sure about it?”_

_He recognizes that tone of voice... That worried tone of voice. And it's his fault. But he is not going to choose what he doesn't want anywhere other than under his feet, destroyed by his own hands, just to make her worries disappear._

“ _I'm not going to Shiratorizawa.”_

_He says it, loud and clear._

_And his mother smiles. Nods._

“ _Okay... Okay.”_

_***_

“I threw that letter away. Without thinking. He didn't want it anyway.”

“I have figured out that much,” Wakatoshi tells her. She shrugs, looks away. “Your coach called me three days after that letter arrived. Tooru still doesn't know about it.”

Wakatoshi nods. “I know.” He raises a hand, looks at it and sees the hard work he put himself through to reach where he is now. But it's always been so... Empty.

“Your son is the only one who has ever refused a Shiratorizawa scholarship offer,” he explains. Because he's the only one who has ever refused them and yet, the only one who was so wanted that the coach himself bothered to make a call. Except for Wakatoshi, of course. He remembers the day, the first day at his school, when he arrived into the gym; found a third-year setter greeting him.

He remembers finding no Oikawa Tooru.

There's nothing much to say.

They both know what they have to know, things cannot be changed at this point.

“What do you want from my son?”

Wakatoshi observes that hazel in her eyes, so similar to Tooru's he almost sees him in her. What he wants from him, huh? It should be so simple, and he said it so many times, and yet no one ever took him seriously.

“I want him to come with me to Tokyo. I want to play volleyball with him as a teammate. I want him to take the opportunity and realize how much his potential would come to grow inside a strong team and how many opportunities this could give him for the future.”

He wants him to realize, to accept that he's been right for all this time.

The woman keeps looking up at him, not saying anything, before she finally smiles. “I'd never thought you'd say that.”

“I've always said it.”

She chuckles. “To him, but not to me.”

He doesn't reply, and relaxes his tense shoulders. His eyes travel around the kitchen and then land onto the sink, still full with dishes. He points at it. “Do you need any help with that?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no. Don't worry about it. It's about done anyway.”

“I'll help you finish.”

She doesn't bring herself to refuse him anymore, especially because he's already reached the sink, has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and is putting his hands in the water, slowly rubbing the dirt off with the small sponge. She looks at him, curious; wonders on how Tooru could possibly hate this guy so much, when he's so kind – maybe a little bit too blunt, but still... He has no ill intentions.

She follows him, stands next to him and dries the plates he hands to her before arranging them inside the cupboards.

They work fast – she immediately notices Wakatoshi does this kind of work everyday; he knows exactly how to wash certain stains, how to rub the glass without scratching it...

She smiles, takes the last cup he gives her and then opens the tallest cupboard. She sighs before stretching out to put it on the tallest shelf – it's usually something she calls her husband or Tooru for, since she's too short to reach it, but this time she must settle on doing this on her own. She misses those couple of centimeters and immediately curses them in the back of her mind.

And then she feels a hand on her wrist, looks to her side before realizing the cup is already taken away by her. “It should go here, right?”

She nods, watches Wakatoshi adjust it with ease before he closes it and focuses his attention back at her.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

Wakatoshi blinks. “No; we're supposed to leave soon.”

Then they hear the boiler go off, meaning Tooru's most likely taking a shower. The woman chuckles. “Trust me, it'll take him a while. I insist, so please sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

Wakatoshi is tempted to refuse once again, but if she said it'll take some time, he doesn't. “I'll have one gladly.” He walks to the chair where he remembers having sat when Tooru asked him to stay for dinner and watches as his mother puts the kettle full of water to warm up.

She isn't talkative when she's doing something, but, Wakatoshi figures, his own mother isn't either, so it's probably a common thing.

He decides, watching brown hair tied in a low ponytail, that he likes the place Tooru comes from, too.

***

Twenty minutes later, Tooru finally gets out of the bathroom, fully dresses in a light blue t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, holding a bag on his shoulder and ready to leave.

He reaches the stairs and takes a deep breath before getting down.

“We're in the kitchen, Tooru!” his mother yells – she always notices when he's arriving; even when he's at his quietest. He gets down and immediately heads for the kitchen. He stops and freezes at the door though, when he finds Wakatoshi and his mother sitting at the table with a cup of tea in front of each one. His mother's arms are crossed on the table and she's leaning forward, listening to something Wakatoshi's talking about.

They stop as soon as they hear him near the door.

His eyes meet Wakatoshi's and the setter immediately recognizes a familiar shine in them, as if they hadn't seen each other half an hour ago.

He licks his lips. “I'm ready. We can go.”

Wakatoshi stands up wordlessly, leaving a half-full cup of green tea sitting on the table. He makes his way to Tooru, eyes never leaving his, and stops only when a couple of steps are parting them before he turns to look the mother once again.

“I apologize for the trouble.”

She waves her hand. “No trouble at all. Thank you for your help... and for the talk, Wakatoshi-kun.”

He gives her a small nod and then his attention is disturbed no more, eyes back on Tooru's face. He moves forward, the setter moves backward, until they are in the main hall again.

“Shall we go?”

Tooru nods. “Yup.”

They move to the stair in front of the entrance, put on their shoes together and then Tooru adjusts his bag on his shoulder, before his mother's voice catches his attention. “Behave yourself, Tooru. Be good.”

His eyes widen for a second when he sees her expression. She hasn't been smiling like this for a while... The last time being when he and-

Hajime...

He swallows.

And then smiles, the same smile that's on the woman's face too – their resemblance is extraordinary, Wakatoshi concludes.

“I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye bye!”

They get out, Tooru a few steps further and Wakatoshi following close by.

“What were you talking about with my mum?”

Wakatoshi's lips curve up in the faintest traces of a smile. “Nothing you already don't know about.” He watches Tooru turn around, a raised eyebrow and a confused look. He shakes his head; motions him to keep walking and takes the lead.

***

Most of the walk is spent in silence, Tooru's head full of thoughts about what they have to talk about once they get to their destination, and Wakatoshi's head full of the boy walking beside him. The lack of sound goes missing a couple of times, when Tooru makes an attempt at conversation and asks Wakatoshi how his day's been, or when he asks about practice. Those don't last longer than a couple of minutes.

The setter sighs in relief when he spots Wakatoshi's house in the distance – it's been a hell of a forty-minute walk with that strange feeling in his stomach. He keeps focusing on Wakatoshi's back until they're in front of the door.

Once in, Tooru remembers every single detail in front of him, smiles slightly when his shoes are off and he's inside all the way. Wakatoshi watches him and they stand in the hall for about a minute, before Tooru coughs, breaking the too familiar moment between them.

“Can I take this – he raises his bag – to your room?”

Wakatoshi's eyes shift from the light blue bag to him. “Of course. You remember where it is.”

Tooru nods and makes his way to the door of the other hall, which leads to Wakatoshi's bedroom. He opens the door, hoping he didn't get the wrong one, and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he realizes he remembers well.

He looks around, and it's tidy and clean like it has been the last time. The only difference is that the futon is unrolled this time – Wakatoshi probably had something else to do this morning and forgot to put it in place. But it doesn't matter – it still looks better than his own – his mother just scolded him this morning about it.

He walks slowly to the clean mattress and puts the bag down, next to it. He gives it one last look and returns outside, looking for the spiker. He figures he'd be waiting in the living room, so he decides to check there first and he gets it right. He sees him sitting on the couch, head thrown back on the top of the backrest, eyes closed.

Tooru smirks – this it the least composed he's ever seen of him; well, except when he stopped him right before he was about to come undone from his touch. But those were completely different circumstances.

He walks to him and then leans just a little further away from his head, arms crossed and supporting his weight against the couch. Wakatoshi opens his eyes in that moment, gold focusing on the setter's exposed hands and wrists, and then moving up on his arms and even higher, until their eyes meet again.

“What did you want to talk about then, Oikawa?”

Tooru's eyes widen – he knows Wakatoshi's blunt to the point of no return, but this time the fact that he's used to it didn't help out. He licks his lips, considering whether he should speak immediately or- How is he supposed to even begin to say it?

He swallows once again.

“I'm hungry.”

Wakatoshi gives him a stern look, now raising his head and turning his whole body to look at him.

Tooru only pouts and straightens up. “I want dinner first, Ushiwaka-chan... I prefer talking when my stomach's full.” He can't talk about it just yet.

Wakatoshi stands up and Tooru almost yelps in surprise when he fins him by his side.

“Alright.”

“You're cooking, you know that?” Tooru tells him.

Wakatoshi sighs. “Of course.” He doesn't really want to see him cut his finger once again – he's a setter, and setter's hands must not get damaged by something so stupid as cutting vegetables. “Is there anything you have in mind?”

Tooru licks his lips. “Not really. Surprise me, Uwshiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi gives him a long stare, before leading him to the kitchen and immediately making his way to the fridge to pull out everything he needs for his dishes. Tooru notices spaghetti, vegetables, meat, eggs and lots of spices. He watches him put the water to boil for the pasta and then pull out a large skillet, a smaller pan, a chopping board and a very sharp-looking knife.

While the water's warming up, the spiker washes the vegetables and starts cutting them. Tooru observes him, approaches the counter and decides to hop and sit on it, earning a raised eyebrow from the other. He watches the pieces being cut, but something's bothering him. “Don't make the pieces too thick.”

Surprisingly, Wakatoshi listens without complaint and immediately, the pieces are becoming thinner, which is how Tooru likes them. He grunts when he sees him reaching for the eggplant and shakes his head. “No, no... No eggplants. I despise them.” Wakatoshi wonders if that childlike body language is ingrained in his personality or if he's just a good, _great_ at acting that way. He highly doubts about the second one. In this case at least.

But he still doesn't add them to the menu.

Once all the vegetables are cut, he puts them inside the skillet and starts to add spices to add to their flavor. Salt, pepper, soy sauce...

“Don't add the ginger.” And another pout.

Wakatoshi doesn't add ginger.

He grabs some curry powder, shows it to the setter and when he sees thumbs raising up, he opens the bottle. “Put a lot of it. I like spicy stuff.”

Now that he's done here, Wakatoshi puts the spaghetti in the now boiling water, then he walks to the fridge once again and pulls out some rice he prepared himself for this morning's breakfast. He decides to heat it up in the microwave for a couple of minutes before he pulls it out and divides it into two bowls, one for each.

His eyes search for Tooru, who is still looking at his every move. “Could you set the table?”

Tooru crosses his arms. “I don't even know where all the things are.”

“I'll be guiding you.”

And he does. While doing all the other things at the same time.

Tooru sets everything they'll need: plates, chopsticks, glasses. When he's finishes, Wakatoshi is already breading two steaks and putting them on the hot oil. Tooru doesn't even know when he managed to prepare everything so fast – he hasn't been focused on him for only a few minutes.

Wakatoshi's attention is now back to the vegetables, which are now almost ready. He grabs a fork from the drawer in front of himself and decides to try some to see if he needs to add anything else. He's careful not to burn himself, but despite they're still quite hot, he finds them good.

He grabs another portion.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru, who's looking at the table to see if anything is missing, turns around and finds a fork with a carrot and some zucchini only a couple of centimeters away from his face. He doesn't think about it, blows two times and takes the bite.

Only then he realizes he didn't even bother to take the fork in his hand but ate directly from Wakatoshi's hand.

He feels blood rushing to his cheeks and immediately curses him.

“More soy sauce,” he mumbles and turns away with an annoyed pout, hoping for Wakatoshi to be dense enough not to notice. He calms down after a couple of seconds and then turns his head towards him right when he's starting to put the food in the different plates. He hands them to the setter, one by one and once everything's settled, Wakatoshi nods and they make their way to the table. They sit where they sat last time as well.

Tooru's eyes move down to the bowl of yakisoba and onto the plate with the huge tonkatsu with rice. Needless to say, both of the meals are a huge portion. Too huge for Tooru's standards.

“You sure you didn't overdo it?”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow. “I don't understand.”

Tooru's eyes widen. “Don't tell me you are actually capable of eating all of this.”

“I am.”

Tooru closes his mouth, lowers his head and takes in a deep breath. “I hope I am too then.”

Wakatoshi grabs his bowl of rice. “If it's too much for you, you can leave it. It's not an issue.” he breaks the chopsticks and grabs the first bite. “Itadakimasu.”

Tooru nods. “Itadakimasu.”

They start eating, silently. As usual, Tooru adores the food, but he doesn't bother to compliment him this time – Wakatoshi probably already knows he did good (as usual), so that's why he's not saying anything.

Minutes go by, Tooru doesn't know how many, until finally Wakatoshi looks up at him. “Now that your hunger is sedated, would you tell me what is it that you want to talk about?” Tooru's head raises up and he almost chokes on the spaghetti he's got in his mouth. He catches his breath, after struggling to prevent himself to spit them out. Then he chews slowly and swallows.

Wakatoshi is waiting.

They look at each other in the eyes, and the more Tooru finds himself reflected in that gold, the more the words in his head are slipping away. He has to tell him. He has to tell him.

But his mouth doesn't cooperate.

Eventually, Wakatoshi grabs another bite, looks away and Tooru lets out a sigh in relief, because apparently he still has some time left.

But he's wrong.

“I suppose you are here to refuse my proposal after all.”

“Excuse me?”

Wakatoshi shrugs, mumbling a quiet “it seems like nothing has changed after all”.

Tooru hears it and something inside him makes him slam the chopsticks on the table, and it comes out stronger than he meant it, because he winces in surprise at his own action. “Of course something has changed!”

Wakatoshi looks at him seriously, but not quite understanding. “I don't understand.”

Tooru grits his teeth. Closes his eyes. He can't run away from him anymore. He can't run away from this whole situation. The tug in his chest grows, the clenching feeling in his stomach gets more painful by the second and he feels his hands starting to tremble.

“I accept.”

Silence.

Did he really say it?

He opens his eyes slowly, an unfocused gaze meets Wakatoshi's still figure.

He _did_ say it.

“I'll come with you to Tokyo.”

Wakatoshi's shoulders visibly stiffen, his eyebrows raise and the expression of shock and surprise is something Tooru's having the chance to witness for the first time in his life. He watches him absorbing the idea, making it one with his mind, as his eyes lower from hazel eyes, to pink lips and then onto his neck and chest.

And then they're spacing out, fixating onto an undefined spot.

Tooru wonders if it's only him that's ever had this kind of effect on him or if anyone else has ever made it happen as well. It is indeed a unique sight and he would tease him about it if this weren't the most delicate situation of his life.

“You... You are not messing with me, Oikawa?

Tooru blinks. “Huh?”

Wakatoshi takes a bite of his food, swallows it after drinking from his glass until it's empty. He swallows that too. “This isn't another joke of yours, right?”

Tooru doesn't understand if it's him who's joking or is it all just an unpleasant hallucination, but after he realizes his doubts are serious, for only one moment, he sees black. _Wakatoshi doesn't trust him._ He clicks with his tongue, slams his hands on the table and stands up abruptly. He finally, _finally,_ is able to look at him from above and he has never thought it could have been out of disappointment. “How can you even ask that?! Do I look like someone who could tell you this as a stupid joke?”

Wakatoshi feels his throat sore despite the amount of water he drank before. He really hoped for this answer. For years, and years. And now it's finally here, after six long years of constant refusals and hate. He wants to be... happy about it.

But this is _Tooru_.

Until he isn't absolutely certain, until Tooru's whimsical personality doesn't confirm it...

He doesn't want to trust him.

“Yes.”

Tooru doesn't know when it happens, or if it's because of that one single word. But _it happens_. The searing pain latches onto his chest and stays there, trying to make him lose his balance, fall off the edge. And the lump in his throat doesn't help it. Yet, he can't let him see.

He looks away. “You're acting like Iwa-chan, so mean to me... Not believing my words or taking me seriously at all.” It comes out as a quiet mumble, but not a whisper. It is meant to be heard and it is heard.

Wakatoshi tries to reply, but Tooru raises a hand, stopping him.

“A joke, huh? Ushiwaka-chan,” he takes in a deep breath, “do you honestly think I would bother coming all the way to Shiratorizawa after all these years, risking to get into a huge load of trouble if anyone found me there and then following you to your place... Because of a goddamn _joke_?” By the end of the sentence, he's yelling.

Wakatoshi listens to every word. But he just... can't believe it's being so... Easy? Simple? “So you're not making fun of me.”

Tooru huffs in frustration, moves to the spiker's side of the table, lowers down so they're face to face and then closes his hand in a fist. Wakatoshi observes it, watches it reach towards him, towards his face. He closes his eyes for a split moment, ready for a hypothetical hit...

But it doesn't come.

Tooru hits him gently on his forehead, like a knock on the door that's being closed and locked where there shouldn't even be one.

“Did you listen to what I just said?!” Tooru licks his lips, makes sure to empty his mouth by swallowing all the saliva gathered there. “I'm serious.” And then he gives him _that look._ The look he gives to every single one of his opponents, a serious, but fair and respectful one.

At this point this can't be anything but the truth but still, Wakatoshi is just too overwhelmed with all the information gathering in his head. “What made you change your mind?” Gold focuses on hazel, ready to spot any sign of uncertainty or anything that could make him falter even a little.

But there is none of it.

Tooru straightens up, smiles. _Smiles._

“You should be asking _who_ made me change my mind,” he tells him.

Wakatoshi still doesn't get it.

“It was Iwa-chan. I talked to Iwa-chan.”

_Iwaizumi Hajime._

“What did he say to you?”

Tooru keeps smiling at the warm memory of that evening, even through all those tears. “Let's say he made me understand some things and made me accept the fact that I could even get better at what I do, if I play by your side...” He lets out a small laugh at that, finding it incredibly ironic (probably like Wakatoshi is right now) when Hajime had to say it only once for him to change his mind.

Wakatoshi looks at him, heart and mind finally at peace. “Then you are coming with me,” _finally._ It isn't a question, but Tooru still pouts. “I already said yes, Ushi _b_ aka-chan!”

Wakatoshi's eyebrow twitches at the new variant of that annoying nickname, but decides not to mention anything about it. He stands up, gold observes the whole sight in front of him, finds Tooru looking back at him, almost expectantly. They are close, so close Tooru can feel his breath on his lips.

He feels his blood rushing through his veins.

But then Wakatoshi is turning around, pushing his chair back under the table. “Will you help me clean everything up?” he asks and Tooru can't believe this. Did he just _back out_?

“Sure.”

He grabs his empty plates and bowl and puts them into the sink not too gently, waits for Wakatoshi to do the same, before staring in disbelief as the other prepares himself to wash them, instead of focusing on _him_. He stands next to him, getting ready to dry everything up, because apparently this is what he is supposed to do.

His blood is still rushing, but this time he's annoyed, pissed off.

He dries up two plates before he has enough. He throws the cloth next to Wakatoshi's hand, earning a confused look from the man. He huffs and closes his eyes.

This is it.

When he opens them, Wakatoshi is still standing on the same place, head turned towards him, a blank expression on his face. He's waiting for him to say something, but it is no words that come out of Tooru's mouth. He clicks with his tongue, takes a step forward until they're inches apart.

His arms move and wrap around Wakatoshi's torso, under his arms and slide to the front so the hands can slowly move over his chest. Tooru closes the distance between them, pressing his chest against the spiker's back and placing a gentle kiss onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Wakatoshi stiffens at the sudden gesture. “Oikawa?”

Tooru looks up at him, meets that _gorgeous_ gold – it's definitely because of the kitchen's light, he tells himself; someone's eyes just _can't_ look like this even with the brightest of lights – and tilts his head on the side, nuzzling his cheek. “Do you really want to be washing dishes in this very moment, U-shi-wa-ka-chan?” he whispers quietly, sensually, against his ear.

And something breaks.

Hesitation breaks. Shatters.

Wakatoshi frees himself from Tooru's embrace with one shake of his shoulders and immediately turns around to face the him. He finds lips gently curved up and half-lidded hazel eyes looking at him, and everything he wants in this very moment is to claim the sight in front of him and make it his own. And no one else's.

His eyes flicker to those pink lips for the briefest of moments, before he's leaning forward, arms reaching out and taking Tooru into a tight embrace, pulling him closer, pulling him in.

He kisses him.

And there has never been anything Wakatoshi wanted more than this. The way Tooru hums and wraps his arms around his neck, back arching until their warmth surrounds the other and they melt. There is no room for uncertain brushing of lips, only for a heated passion and desires born so long ago.

Wakatoshi moves forward, doesn't stop when Tooru's hip hits the side of the table and he yelps in his mouth, because he swallows the sound, he swallows the pain, he swallows everything and keeps pushing forward.

Tooru's hand buries in his hair and starts pulling, receiving in response a low grunt and an even stronger assault on his mouth. Tooru feels the spiker's tongue dart out and lick his bottom lip and he immediately gives in to it and parts his lips, moaning when he feels it slipping in and moving against his own.

Wakatoshi doesn't move slowly like the first time; his hands roam around Tooru's torso, hungrily seek to touch his back, sides and hips, fingers push over every single muscle as that mouth keeps devouring him more and more with every second – it seems that their rough interruption from last time has managed to leave consequences upon Wakatoshi's patience.

Not that Tooru minds.

Soon enough, Tooru feels himself slammed against the wall, his back hits the hard surface hard. But he _loves_ it. He moans lowly and opens his eyes as soon as Wakatoshi pulls away. He takes a little time, a fraction of a second to let his body savor the position they're in, the way Wakatoshi is pressing him exactly where he wants him, the way he's forcing his legs to spread to slip his in between.

It is exactly the way it's been the first time; his thigh pressing against his crotch, big hands find their way to his wrists to adjust him just the way he wants, with his arms around his neck, hands buried in dark hair... Tooru approves it all with a low moan, which sounds nothing like himself but is a reaction stronger than his senses' attempts at controlling it.

There is a difference though. This time he finds himself wanting this.

He _wants_ it.

_All of it._

His grip on Wakatoshi's hair tightens impossibly more when he pulls him forward and into another kiss. He lets out a pleased yelp when teeth dig into his bottom lip and pull on the sensitive skin as the leg between his pushes against his crotch and creates such a delicious friction that keeps sending shivers down his spine.

And then Wakatoshi is mouthing on his jaw, sliding his hands down Tooru's body and taking a firm hold of his hips, bringing them together with his and when Tooru throws his head back, no time is wasted before Wakatoshi is _biting_ into the soft flesh of his throat, sucking and licking and leaving marks.

“Oh, fuck!” Tooru moans loudly, moves his hand from soft hair to the back of Wakatoshi's neck to encourage him to do more, while with the other he moves over his chest to tug on the cotton t-shirt of his school.

Wakatoshi doesn't stop. He doesn't take a pause to breathe and instead finds satisfaction in the little bit of air his nose and mouth are able to catch in between the bites and kisses he's leaving on Tooru's skin.

He can't help it.

It is him who's losing control this time.

Calloused fingers move from his hips up to the collar of his shirt and pull to the side to expose the pale skin of Tooru's right shoulder, where his sharp eyes immediately catch the faint and almost imperceptible trace of the bite mark he left on him the last time _this_ happened between them.

He stops moving.

His eyes grow wide at the memory of how it... Ended.

Tooru doesn't fail to sense it and whines, trying to understand what the matter is and when he finally manages to meet gold eyes, he finds traces of hesitance, something he would have never expected in a moment like this. But he can read it very well. This time, Wakatoshi can't hide from him.

“Oikawa-”

“Don't stop,” he says breathlessly, leaning forward to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He feels the spiker's reaction, feels his grip tightening on his hip and shoulder, but he doesn't move to return back to his ministrations.

Tooru takes in a deep breath, wraps his arms once again properly around Wakatoshi's neck to bring him closer until their noses are brushing in an intimate act of closeness. He looks at him one last time before his eyes flutter shut.

“I _won't_ ask you to stop. _Not this time._ ”

With that, Tooru tilts his head to the side and kisses him again, this time gentler, but still hungry enough for the spiker to understand just how much he _wants_ to keep going and this time Wakatoshi kisses back. When they pull away, Tooru smirks. “Take me to your bedroom.”

No other words are needed, because Wakatoshi's hands are immediately sliding down on the underside of Tooru's thighs and are raising him up and inviting him to wrap his legs around his waist. Tooru does just that, moving to nibble onto the spiker's earlobe when he feels him moving towards the door.

Wakatoshi handles the doors' opening extremely well, so well Tooru doesn't get to feel any sting or uncomfortable brush against his back that could come with any kind of collision, so he keeps kissing him as a reward.

Before he knows it, Wakatoshi is lowering him down and making him stand back on his feet, because they are already in the bedroom and Tooru thanks God the futon is already unrolled and prepared, because he just can't wait anymore. He moves backwards, lowers on his legs until he finally is sitting down on the soft mattress.

In no time Wakatoshi is in front of him on his knees, lips against his all over again as greedy fingers grab on the edge of his shirt and pull it up. Tooru groans when he's forced to pull away from him just to remove the damn cloth, but then immediately forgets about it when he feels calluses and lips burning over the newly exposed skin.

Wakatoshi pushes him and makes him lie down on his back.

Tooru moans when Wakatoshi's teeth sink into the old spot, beginning to create a new, darker mark to replace the one that is almost gone. Tooru closes his eyes once again, enjoying the sweet and at the same time painful action that is making his head spin even though he's already lying.

Wakatoshi makes sure to lick the fresh bruise a couple of times, place one last kiss on it and move down to leaving a trail of light red marks and saliva over the setter's collarbone until he reaches his chest.

Tooru gasps, opening one eye to look down to see what Wakatoshi is planning to do next and his breath hitches in his throat when he finds him looking up at him, mouth close to a hardened nipple, so close he can feel his hot breath over it. He licks his lips in approval and Wakatoshi immediately moves down, running his tongue in circles over it, before glancing at Tooru once again and immediately feeling pleased by his gaping mouth and the pleasured noises spilling from it whenever he touches him.

Tooru hums when Wakatoshi's mouth closes around the nub ans starts to suck and his muscles stiffen when the other one is pinched by his fingers to avoid it being left out. He keeps playing with him like this for a minute, before he travels lower, leaving a whole new trail of kisses over his abs until he reaches the waistband of his pants.

It is then that Tooru shifts to hold himself on his elbows and watches Wakatoshi grab his hips and pull at the cloth until Tooru raises his hips and lets him slide it down his legs. Once they surpass his ankles, they get thrown away somewhere on the other side of the room – Tooru doesn't bother to see where they land. Wakatoshi moves towards him again, embraces his hips once again and places and open-mouthed kiss on his clothed erection, forcing a high-pitched whine to escape Tooru's throat and his hips to buck up into him.

Wakatoshi lets out a low brunt before he keeps going with his ministrations. Tooru learns to curse himself for putting on his boxer briefs after his shower and curses Wakatoshi as well for not having them removed yet. But the way his mouth moves over his hard cock, the way those large hands are sliding over his body to place themselves on his thighs, only to spread them apart with ease... It's making him crazy.

But then Wakatoshi stops and Tooru groans once more before he decides to look and see what the matter is this time. When he does, his body freezes, all the blood in it seems to want to be in his face, because he feels his cheeks heating up.

The way Wakatoshi's looking at him, like he's everything there is in this world, everything he has and has ever had eyes for.

And then he's lowering his head to place a gentle kiss on the pale skin of the setter's inner thigh, their eye-contact never ceasing.

It is all that is needed for Tooru to get himself back together.

He sits up, breathless and craving for more. His hands reach Wakatoshi's shoulders and pull on his shirt as an invitation for him to get up. The spiker obeys, and as soon as he's on his knees, Tooru pushes against him to make him sit comfortably against the mattress, before he crawls towards him to settle on his lap.

Wakatoshi watches his every move and takes a hold of Tooru's waist as soon as the setter's arms are wrapped around his neck all over again. They kiss, and this time Tooru is aware that _he_ is the one who is initiating it. Wakatoshi kisses him back without any complaining and Tooru can't help but enjoy the way his tongue always _asks_ for permission before slipping inside his mouth. Needless to say, he gives it to it. Always.

He rolls his hips against Wakatoshi's and the spiker is forced to pull away to grunt and throw his head back at the pleasing sensation against his crotch. Tooru smirks at that and removes his t-shirt before throwing it somewhere around the place where his pants should be.

When Wakatoshi's muscled chest, large arms and broad shoulders are exposed, Tooru feels his throat go dry, a sudden hunger awakens inside his belly. His hands grip onto the strong shoulders in front of him and he tilts his head to his side to move onto Wakatoshi's neck to allow his teeth to graze against the warm skin.

Tooru slides down over his collarbone and places a mark that's going to match his own the next morning, goosebumps form on his arms when Wakatoshi lets out a low growl at the slight but persistent pain which Tooru is causing him.

He doesn't stay still after that.

Large hands finally reach behind the setter to cup his buttocks and Tooru lets out a pleased sound at that, pulling away from his third mark to meet Wakatoshi's gaze with a smug smirk. “Ushiwaka-chan is so naughty...” The tone of his voice doesn't hold the facade, coming out too low and raspy _and needy_ to have any of the desired effect.

Wakatoshi doesn't bother to reply and instead moves a hand onto Tooru's boxers and pulls them down on the front, slipping it in to finally take a hold of Tooru's hard cock, the sensation making Tooru's head spin.

“Oh... Fuck, yes.”

With no restrains holding him back, he immediately raises up on his knees, not sitting on Wakatoshi's lap anymore, but still gripping on his shoulders and raising himself so he can look down at the spiker. He finds those eyes following his every move and with the first twist of Wakatoshi's wrist, he learns he doesn't care at all about being watched.

He throws his head back, his hips finally start to move against that daring hand in slow, shallow thrusts.

It feels so good.

Tooru doesn't know how he's going to be able to handle what has yet to come if even just this little bit is making him feel so on the edge that he could faint any second.

“Mmm...” He moans when Wakatoshi's thumb moves over his slit. “More...”

Teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of Tooru's nipple as Wakatoshi starts to work him faster. Tooru moans, hips moving faster too, until they are perfectly synchronized with Wakatoshi's movements. His head stays back, his voice gets louder by the second.

Wakatoshi keeps looking, observing, drinking the sight in front of him with every detail, every noise, every squeeze of those beautiful fingers against his skin he can possibly catch.

But this isn't enough.

He wants more.

_So much more._

He tightens his grip around him and feels his own cock twitching in his pants and the incredible need to throw the setter on his back and fuck him until he screams himself raw and can't take it anymore is overwhelming. But he has managed to wait for six years. So he can wait for a couple more minutes.

Tooru's back arches and he feels that familiar painful feeling in the pit of his stomach and he knows he's about to fall over the edge.

His body stiffens and he exhales heavily.

“Wait.. Stop!” He struggles to pull away, but Wakatoshi doesn't let go of him, doesn't even show any kind of intention of doing so, so he lets his legs give out and plops back on them before moving his hands on Wakatoshi's face and pushing him away. “I said stop!”

When Wakatoshi meets sharp hazel eyes, he finally does, first slowing down until he finally pulls away. Tooru lets out a low groan at the missing friction and it takes him a couple of seconds to recollect himself, which he does by taking in deep breaths. When he does, he moves off of him - not before meeting his lips once again.

“Oikawa...”

“Shh.”

Wakatoshi licks his lips, watches as Tooru's eyes lower onto the magenta sweatpants he is still wearing. “Take them off,” he tells him in a low voice and Wakatoshi immediately complies, standing up and removing them and then again sitting down in front of the setter, with only his black boxer briefs on.

Tooru turns around and starts crawling towards the bag he has brought with himself from home. Wakatoshi observes him, tries not to stare too much at his oh so inviting ass when he slides his briefs all the way down before grabbing the bag in his hands and opening it. He starts looking for something, digging down into its depth, before he makes a small noise of approval and pulls out a small bottle.

“Come here.”

Wakatoshi reaches him, kneels by his side and raises an eyebrow when Tooru hands the item to him. He recognizes it as lube and it is his own breath that leaves his lungs when Tooru presses his lips against his, licks against his bottom lip. “Be gentle, – another kiss – when opening me up.”

Then he pulls away, adjusting one of the two pillows in front of himself, and then gets on his hands and knees, lowering the upper part of his body until he's hugging the pillow but keeping his ass raised up in the air. He then turns his head to the side, graces Wakatoshi's sight with a lazy smile. Wakatoshi tightens his grip on the bottle, moves slowly to kneel behind him now.

His hand traces the curve of his hip and moves up to feel every single rib shielded by lean muscle until his fingertips arrive to touch his shoulder blades.

The spiker leans in, his chest over Tooru's back like he's done the first time on the pommel horse. His lips kiss the back of his shoulders and neck and Tooru sighs contently, but not as much as Wakatoshi is, knowing he finally has the possibility to enjoy every single part of him, without the fear of being discovered, rejected or replaced. His mouth moves over his spine and he gets lower and lower, giving a kiss to every vertebrae showing through his skin and pulls away after placing the last one under his tailbone.

Tooru can't help but feel daze overcoming him and his senses. His eyes flutter shut and he feels shivers run over his skin when he hears the cap being opened and then the sound of lube being poured on Wakatoshi's fingers. He exhales quietly when he hears him shifting and spreads his legs wider.

Wakatoshi's first finger finally reaches Tooru's hole, and circles around it a couple of times before he finally presses against it. After a light resistance, he manages to push it in and immediately Tooru's body stiffens at the intrusion and an umpteenth moan spills from his mouth only to be buried in the fabric of the pillow underneath him.

Wakatoshi waits a little before he starts to move the digit, slowly pushing it in and out, and savoring the tightness of Tooru's insides. When Tooru's breathing returns steady and regular, he pushes in another one and soon he hears another shaky exhale. This time though, he doesn't wait as long and instead immediately starts moving them into a scissoring motion, watching Tooru's muscles tense and his hips push back against him.

“Ushiwaka-chan... Ha! C-curl them slowly... Ngh!”

Wakatoshi complies, the tip of his index finger immediately finds and brushes against his prostate and Tooru groans, his cock leaking even more than before.

Wakatoshi likes the reaction he gets and repeats the motion, which earns him another sound similar to the one he got the first time. “One more...” The third finger gets in easily, as soon as the two words are spoken and Tooru lets out a whine as his legs tremble at the feeling of being filled.

The memories of that evening in Seijō's storage room come to him and he remembers the way Wakatoshi was moving at a frantic pace and he can't help but feel the difference of this time. Despite there isn't all of that carefulness to avoid leaving marks on him, nor the way Wakatoshi's kisses were light and somehow hesitant, as if he was walking on a thin layer of ice, Tooru likes _this_ better. He likes this boldness of his actions, the sureness of every single move he makes, every place he touches him...

He feels wanted.

More than anything in this world.

And he finally realizes it.

Everything he's been feeling for him during the last six years shatters into pieces and forms something new that brings him to three weeks ago.

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

Tooru groans.

“Enough!”

Wakatoshi stiffens, attention focuses on Tooru. Tooru turns his head on his side, takes a glimpse of him with the corner of his eye. “I'm ready.” He moans when those fingers leave – the emptiness fills him and he just can't stand it.

“Hurry up.”

Something in Wakatoshi's mind clicks and the hunger from before returns to possess his nerves. He removes his boxers in no time, grunting when his cock gets freed by the last restrain separating the two of them, and then opens the cap once more, pours a generous amount of lube on his hand and then places it next to the bed. He smears it over himself, closing his eyes at the amazing feeling of his hand. But his hand is not what he's craving for.

Once coated enough, his hands move to Tooru's ribcage and slide down, caressing his hips to finally land on his buttocks. He spreads them and positions himself at his entrance. He hears Tooru's breath hitching and pushes against him.

There is resistance, as if he hadn't prepared him at all. Tooru is clearly trembling at the pressure and the strangled sound he lets our when Wakatoshi finally starts to enter him makes the man stop. He doesn't have to rush. Not this time. He caresses the setter's hips in a soothing motion, feeling the sweaty skin under his palms.

But then he setter buries his face in his pillow and then pushes his hips back to meet Wakatoshi's.

The feeling of his cock slipping into that tight heat makes Wakatoshi's sight cloud and it takes every little drop of his will to keep himself from starting to pound into him relentlessly until he comes.

But he can't bring himself to hurt him.

Not now.

Instead he reaches down to wrap a hand around Tooru's cock and the setter immediately moans, spreading his legs instinctively. Wakatoshi keeps pushing in, the action goring through much easier ever since he managed to fit in the head.

“Keep going. Come on...” Tooru mumbles between gasps.

Wakatoshi takes in a deep breath and then pushes harder until he's inside of him down to the base. He lets out a groan and then looks down again. He doesn't miss the way Tooru's hands are clawing the pillow underneath him, the way his body is writhing as if he was trying to support a heavy weight, so he keeps stroking him and enjoys the moans re receives in return.

Soon, he feels Tooru's inner muscles relaxing, adjusting to his size as Tooru breathes deeply.

And then...

“You can move.”

Just like the first time.

Wakatoshi gives a small nod, even though he can't be seen, before pulling out, only to give a first thrust of his hips and burying himself inside of him again. Tooru keens high in approval, and Wakatoshi is sure he can keep going now.

He starts moving at a slow pace, thrusts at one particular angle and when he hears Tooru's moaning every time he brushes against the desired spot, he knows he's doing it right.

When he increases speed gradually, Tooru's moans reach an even higher pitch and he knows he's getting close. “Faster, faster...” He just doesn't know how much.

Tooru's been close to exploding and melting ever since the spiker started to stroke him before the preparation, but now he can't take it anymore. His moans turn into screams when Wakatoshi's hips start to hit him harder with every thrust and soon, having his face buried in the pillow becomes an impossible task for him.

He turns his head to the side and there is nothing that can swallow all the noise he's making. He swears his legs are going to give out soon.

Wakatoshi feels his blood boiling, rushing through his veins and he needs, wants more. He wants to feel, to have, to make his... So much more of him.

When Oikawa feels like he's going to explode for good, Wakatoshi stops touching him and pulls out and he finds himself letting out a strangled noise, so unlike him. He's about to turn around to see and ask _why the hell did he just stop for the third fucking time_ , but then he feels himself being taken in a strong hold and all of a sudden finds himself lying on his back, head resting comfortable against both of the pillows now. He didn't even realize Wakatoshi put the second one underneath him too, just before he flipped him over.

Before he can speak, Wakatoshi is entering him again, this time fast and hard from the beginning and Tooru can't help but notice just how much his way of playing in volleyball is similar to this. He's rough, but not to the point where it hurts, but Tooru still screams. Because Wakatoshi keeps hitting his prostate over and over _and over_ and making his eyes roll back in his head. Every single word he has had in mind until now is gone.

“Ngh... Yes, yes! Ahn~”

That overwhelming heat in the lower part of his spine keeps pouring and pouring, spreading all the way inside of his stomach.

He reaches out his arms, throws them around Wakatoshi's neck and pulls him against him, chests pressed flush and lips meeting in the hungriest of kisses.

Wakatoshi slips his hand between their bodies and takes a hold of Tooru's cock, wasting no time before he starts to pump him fast, following the still increasing rhythm of his thrusts and takes down his throat all the incoherent cries Tooru screams on top of his lungs.

And then Tooru's insides are clenching, back arching into him and his cock jolts, blanking every single one of his senses. He comes in thick white spurts, all over their chests and Wakatoshi's hand, but the latter doesn't seem to mind at all, and instead gives him a few more strokes until the he's fully spent and falling limp against the mattress.

Tooru doesn't have the strength to meet him halfway, and instead lets his body to be pulled and pushed by the spiker and shudders when he keeps fucking him even harder through his orgasm, more erratic and messier with very thrust. Wakatoshi's face is buried in the crook of his neck and the continuous grunts are letting him know Wakatoshi is about to reach his peek as well.

With one last thrust, Wakatoshi buries himself deep into him one last time, and Tooru feels his insides being filled up with hot semen and "fuck, it's so good, yes!" He moans, grips Wakatoshi's hips, digs blunt nails in hard flesh, and guides him in the last three, four lazy drags of his hips, in and out, in and out, until Wakatoshi is finally fully spent. Wakatoshi stops moving then, pulls out of him and lets himself fall on his back, right next to Tooru's shuddering and exhausted form.

They are breathing hard by the end of it, but Wakatoshi regains control of himself first. Tooru seems to notice that and nudges him with his shoulder to gain his attention. “My bag... Tissues.”

Wakatoshi blinks before looking at his side.

“Front pocket.”

He follows the setter's instructions and opens the zipper, immediately finding the requested item. He pulls the small box out, takes out of it a couple of tissues and sits up, first cleaning Tooru's chest, being careful not to miss any spot. Hazel eyes keep watching him and then he spreads his legs and raises them, thanking God Wakatoshi understands it immediately. He feels the cum spilling out of his hole being cleaned up and when he's dry, he lets out a sigh in relief and finally relaxes. He turns to his side and watches the taller man, following his every move.

Wakatoshi is cleaning himself until suddenly he turns his head to check on him.

Tooru doesn't move.

So he moves instead, reaches for the blanket at their feet, which is neatly folded on the other side of the bed. He shakes it a couple of times and then pulls it over both of them.

It's a little cramped, like it was the first and last time they slept in his bed, but none of them minds. Wakatoshi lies on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He doesn't really know what he's supposed to do now. Besides, it's most likely late (he can't see the clock in the darkness of the room), so he could even afford himself to fall asleep.

Suddenly, Tooru shifts, drags himself tiredly onto him to rest his head against his shoulder and wrap his arm around him, lying his hand on his chest.

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow and as no touch comes from him in return, Tooru chuckles. “You are allowed to touch me even when we don't have sex, you know?”

For the first time, Wakatoshi's throat feels dry. He is allowed... He is. _Allowed_.

He hesitantly moves a hand through soft, brown locks and Tooru sighs, places a gentle kiss on his neck. Wakatoshi doesn't know how this is supposed to be done; he's moving his hand, but it's rigid, not natural. And yet, Tooru seems to liking it and is relaxing even more under his touch.

He starts to do the same and eases out as well.

His eyes spot the hand on his chest and he takes a hold of it, brings it to his lips and presses a chaste kiss on its back. His mouth moves over his knuckles, over every callus, every fingertip. Hazel eyes stare at the action in a daze. “You...” Wakatoshi doesn't stop, and instead, between feathery kisses whispers “I like your hands.”

Tooru smiles.

_'So blunt.'_

His eyes flutter shut, the pleasant ministrations on his hand feel... Incredibly good.

And then there are lips on the crown of his head. Hazel eyes, which were previously shut, fly open. He moves his head to look up and finds himself breathless in front of the look he's receiving in return.

In the darkness of the room, illuminated by only the moonlight on the outside, Wakatoshi is holding him, an arm around his waist, the other hand holding his own against the spot where his beating heart is.

“I have liked you for a very long time, Oikawa.”

Tooru exhales quietly, closes his eyes and welcomes lips against his own, allows all of his breath to be stolen away like the easiest of preys, but he feels nothing like one. He's free. He is being treated the way he wants to be- no. Probably even better. It's been like this...

_For a very long time._

He was just too blind to see it.

Even more blind to allow himself to accept it.

And even though he thought he got everything after Wakatoshi took care of him, talked to him, kissed him, fucked him into the mattress until he couldn't see straight and confessed him his love, _this_ kiss proves him he's wrong once again.

Because it's different from the all the others.

It's gentler, sweeter. Once again it is given to him the right way, the way he's always wanted it, and all of his past thoughts, Hajime, Tokyo, volleyball... It's all gone.

There is only Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Not a rival, not someone who made him suffer.

None of it.

Wakatoshi is raw, simple... And maybe Tooru should start to think like this as well. He places a kiss on the corner of Wakatoshi's mouth, sighs against warm skin.

“I know.”

Wakatoshi's hand resumes the gentle caresses on his hair after he speaks those words and Tooru smiles, closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, _Ushijima_.”

Wakatoshi holds him tighter.

“Goodnight, Oikawa.”

Sleep overcomes him, joins the warmth spreading over his skin, but before he falls into what seems to be a peaceful slumber, he realizes that maybe, _maybe_ , he could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I managed to write this in the end.
> 
> It took forever.
> 
> And it's still not even close to the way I wanted it, but I don't think I am capable enough to make it that way, so you just have to settle with the ugly twin of my idea. I apologize for that.
> 
> Anyway, I believe I kind of screwed up with this chapter, because of their personalities, but I couldn't imagine some scenes any different than the way I wrote them. I apologize for any kind of OCness too. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you for reading this and also a big hug and more 'thank you's for all your lovely support, Comments, Bookmarks and Kudos.
> 
> ***
> 
> Oh, I almost forgot.
> 
> I hate eggplants.


	12. New Beginnings and (Un)Expected Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Iwa-chan?”
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “It's over, huh?”
> 
> This.
> 
> This part of their lives they have learned to cherish since forever. There is no more room for losing control, for mistakes. No more room for games or childish laughs or simple actions that used to brighten every single day of theirs. After today, it's going to be all gone.
> 
> “I guess it is,” Hajime replies quietly.

Wakatoshi opens his eyes when the sun peeks into the room and its rays illuminate his face, intense enough to bother through his eyelids and therefore to put an end to his sleep.

He blinks a couple of times, trying to adjust to it, and wonders how it can possibly be so high in the sky when it's only six o'clock in the morning. Then he comes to his senses and realizes it is actually impossible.

He turns his head to look at the clock next to the door and blinks, in disbelief, when he sees it's 8.30 – two hours and a half later than his usual wake up time. How could it possibly be? He always wakes up at six, on his own, without the need of any kind of alarm or his parents' calls. So why-

“Ngh...”

He feels weight shifting on his chest and brown locks come in contact with his chin, tickling his skin in such an unfamiliar but pleasant way. He looks down, finds Tooru, still asleep, lying on his side, head resting on his collarbone and an arm wrapped around his torso. Their legs are tangled in the blankets – _Tooru's_ are tangled with his own, as he's pretty much sure he hasn't changed position since last night. He never does after all.

He knows he should be getting up – his morning run is waiting for him, though it's a little too late for it, and after that he needs to take a shower and make breakfast for two.

He flinches when Tooru snuggles to him even more – he has never thought of the possibility of the setter being a clingy sleeper (nor being _that_ vocal during sex, if that is), but he can't quite say he minds. He doesn't. At all.

But since he was supposed to be awake since quite a long time, so he decides to get up. He tries to sit up, but Tooru's weight and the position they are in don't allow him to do so; so he decides to try to move him gently to place him fully onto the mattress, and to begin with his plan he grabs his arm.

He hears Tooru grumble and stops – he doesn't want to wake him up, as he seems to be having quite a peaceful slumber. He waits for his breathing to return regular before he moves the arm off himself. He then slides his hand up to the setter's shoulder and slowly pushes him back. He's almost free, when Tooru groans.

“Ushiwaka-chan, what are you doing?”

Wakatoshi stiffens ever so slightly, trying to lay his eyes on Tooru's face, which is still buried in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“I have to get up.”

Tooru finally sighs and raises his hand, sleepy half-lidded hazel eyes meet his, along with that trademarking pout of his. Wakatoshi finds him beautiful, even like this, messy and tired and _grumpy_. “What time is it?” His voice is rough and low, still sleepy.

“Half past eight.”

Tooru blinks a couple of times, says nothing.

Wakatoshi starts to believe he's going to just move and let him go.

But then...

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!” Tooru says loud, lets himself collapse half on top of Wakatoshi and half on the mattress, and everything Wakatoshi's done until now to move him away turns to have been useless. Wakatoshi says nothing, doesn't know what he should say in a case like this. Tooru sighs heavily. “It's Sunday, so why the hell are you awake so _early_?!”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow, doesn't understand.

“Oikawa-”

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” Tooru mumbles, letting the sleepiness overcome him again. His eyes flutter shut and Wakatoshi immediately notices his muscles relax and when his breathing is once again regular, Wakatoshi knows he's about to fall asleep again.

“Oikawa.”

“Ten more minutes,” he whispers against his collarbone.

Wakatoshi lies his head back on the pillow, gold eyes move to stare at the ceiling.

He waits.

But the ceiling's boring, he figures not even a minute later. His gaze shifts when he turns his head and obviously lands on Tooru. He observes brown locks being illuminated by the morning sun, pale skin shines and silence surrounds them. The ticking of the clock is the only rumor interrupting it constantly, periodically, though it's not enough to wake up Tooru, nor to annoy Wakatoshi.

The spiker's attention is focused on the setter. Always on him and no one else; no matter where they are and who they're with.

It is still hard for him to believe he's having this in front of him, after all those times he was rejected and forced to merely imagine this very moment in his head whenever he felt lonely. That happened way too often and this time he really struggles to believe it is reality and not another one of his fantasies.

He buries his hand between those now messier than usual, brown curls, and hears Tooru sigh contently. And he knows this isn't a dream. It's everything he has always wanted, and even more than that.

There is a weird feeling in his chest, which is making him sink deeper into the mattress and under the covers. His eyes close and the sunlight doesn't bother him anymore. He lowers his hand to Tooru's shoulder, starts to caress the soft skin, and exhales quietly.

Tooru doesn't bother to move away, doesn't even tease him for the gentle ministrations he's giving him. He doesn't whine, doesn't resist...

In this very moment, in Wakatoshi's bed, Tooru is _raw_ too.

There is none of that complexity of his character whenever Wakatoshi is around. Even though he let him have his way with him last night, he still made sure to be in charge whenever he wanted to do some work himself – Wakatoshi knows Tooru _allowed_ him to do everything he did to him last night and now he's sleeping on top of him as if he had been doing it countless times, when in truth this it the first. _Their_ first.

Wakatoshi watches him.

And the sight in front of him is gorgeous.

He once again has the chance to observe those little details that have always been forbidden to him: the way he parts his lips in his sleep, the way his long eyelashes flutter whenever he shifts... Wakatoshi isn't afraid to get caught this time – there is no need to be. So he dares his fingers to move the long fringe off his face.

Hazel eyes open at that and gold meets it without hesitation.

For one instant, Tooru's expression is relaxed.

Then he smirks. “Am I so interesting when I sleep, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi doesn't reply. Doesn't feel guilty. Even though he has been caught. The hand on the setter's shoulder keeps moving and doesn't stop even when Tooru rests his chin on Wakatoshi's chest. He blinks a couple of times, to send the last bits of sleepiness away and closes everything with a yawn.

“You'd better prepare some breakfast if you're going to get up from here,” Tooru tells him and moves off of him, rolling to lie on his side so Wakatoshi's free from his hold.

Wakatoshi finds the cold sensation that overcomes him when Tooru pulls away rather unpleasant, but then he sits up. Tooru still doesn't make any attempt to move from his spot, so Wakatoshi focuses on finding his boxers instead. They are an easy catch, as they're lying exactly next to him, next to the long forgotten bottle of lube he left there last night, right before he made Tooru his. He takes them, moves the cover off his body and stands up, wearing them and then wandering around the room to pick up the rest of his clothes.

“I shall go to the supermarket to buy a couple of ingredients for breakfast. I will return soon.”

Tooru nods against the pillow and his eyelids are too heavy for him to watch the spiker exit the room.

Once the door is closed, Wakatoshi walks to the bathroom, takes a quick shower and then wears the same clothes. He finishes ten minutes later and goes for the front door, where he left his bag. He takes his wallet and puts it in his pocket, puts on his trainers, and then heads out.

.

He is back half an hour later and when he steps into the main hall of the house, he can hear the shower running in the bathroom. He walks into the kitchen, pulls his phone out of his pocket and finds a message from his mother, where she's letting him know she and his father are going to be back from their trip in the evening.

He replies to her with a simple 'okay' and then starts to set what he bought onto the kitchen table. He prepares coffee for both of them and is about to pour it in the cups he already put out before, when he hears the door of the second hall open and Tooru storm out.

“Here you are!”

Wakatoshi turns around, blinks.

He seems... Angry?

Wakatoshi doesn't understand why he had to come out of the bathroom with only his sweatpants on, and no shirt.

“Are you some kind of wild animal, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi blinks once again. “Excuse me?”

Tooru groans in frustration and then points at his neck and shoulders, gold eyes follow, only to find dark marks all over pale skin, going from his throat to the juncture between his neck and shoulders, to his collarbones, some even reaching his chest. Wakatoshi catches another on his ribcage and one under his navel, very close to the waistband of his pants.

“How the hell am I supposed to cover all of this during tomorrow's practice?!”

“Why would you have to cover it?”

Tooru whines at Wakatoshi's denseness, shakes his head in frustration (Wakatoshi swears he reminds him of a spoiled kid) and then puts on his shirt with one last curse slipping from his mouth (it reminds Wakatoshi that he isn't a kid; the few ones he knows don't swear like sailors). He then walks to the table and sits at his usual spot. Wakatoshi hands him the coffee and the small jar with the sugar, so he can put in as much as he wants.

“You are absolutely the worst, Ushiwaka-chan...” he mutters with a pout.

Wakatoshi finishes emptying the bag of groceries and turns once more to place a paper bag next to Tooru's cup. “How so?” he asks and watches Tooru's eyes widen when he peeks inside, before slipping his hands in, only to pull out some freshly baked milk bread Wakatoshi got in the bakery he goes to every morning.

“You bought me milk bread.”

Tooru's statement holds a tone of disbelief.

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side. “If I remember correctly, you told me you like milk bread.” He _knows_ he remembers correctly, remembers Tooru's cheerful expression when he pulled out those packages of milk bread from the store. This one is better he believes, as the baker gave it to him five minutes after pulling it out of the oven.

Tooru doesn't speak and instead takes a first bite.

Wakatoshi feels something warm tug in his chest when he sees hazel eyes get a little more shine in them at the taste. He turns around to face the counter and prepares himself a sandwich and then squeezes out some juice for both of them with the oranges he bought from his favorite greengrocer.

“Do you want anything else?” he asks him, but when he receives a shake of Tooru's head, he finally sits down.

It's the first time Wakatoshi feels at peace.

It's also the first time he gets to have breakfast in the company of the setter he's always wanted without anything bothering them.

.

When they get back to his room so Tooru can take his things, Wakatoshi observes the bag he has brought with himself being emptied.

“These are your clothes, Ushiwaka-chan. Don't worry, I washed them.”

“I wasn't worried,” Wakatoshi says.

Tooru turns around, his lips curve up ever so slightly, and then he moves towards him to hand him the small pile in his hands. Wakatoshi doesn't fail to catch a glimpse of purple and white and his hand immediately goes to take the cloth from the bottom, only to reveal it being his jacket.

He searches his gaze, but Tooru isn't looking at him anymore.

“Oikawa.”

He doesn't reply either.

Wakatoshi puts the rest of the clothes on his desk, but keeps the jacket. He approaches him, watches as the setter faces him with his back. “I recall telling you to keep this.”

Tooru lowers his head, hands absently searching in his bag to see if he forgot to return something, even though he knows perfectly well there is nothing more that needs to be left here. “I don't need it.”

Wakatoshi sighs, opens the cloth and wraps it around Tooru's shoulders, making sure it doesn't fall off when he stiffens, in the same way he did that night in the storage room. Tooru doesn't bother to try to shrug it off, and instead turns around to look at him. Wakatoshi has never been able to read through this particular expression, as it's perfectly impassible and enigmatic at the same time.

“I also recall insisting for you to keep it,” Wakatoshi explains, “so please do.”

Tooru freezes ever so slightly, especially when Wakatoshi leans in and places a chaste, feathery kiss on his temple; then he closes his eyes and welcomes the warm sensation on his skin. When Wakatoshi pulls away, he receives an expectant move, so he sighs, shaking his head, takes off the jacket, folds it and puts it back in his bag, tells himself to make some proper space for it in his closet.

***

The dinner with his teammates is something Tooru is looking forward to. And now that they're here, he feels his eyes burn at the realization that this is probably the last time they'll be able to be in each others' company like this.

They pick their usual restaurant, the place they go to whenever they win a game or in cases like this, the end of the school year. Everyone's here, the owners have them prepared a special room where they can stay, so other people can't bother them and the other way around – they have learned with time that high schoolers can get quite loud at times.

They order their food and while waiting for it to arrive, they cannot stay in silence.

These last hours better be made precious while it's still possible.

“So...” It is Shigeru who begins, moving his eyes from Tooru, to Hajime, then to Takahiro and for last on Issei. “Where are you going next year?”

Takahiro grins, leans on the table, shifting just a little bit closer to Issei. “The two of us are going to Osaka. Issei got in there without problems and with a little bit of help I managed to take a spot too.”

Shinji listens to them. “So? What did you pick?”

Takahiro grins. “Law.”

“Medicine,” comes the answer from Issei soon after.

Tooru laughs. “Makki is probably going to end with all of his future clients in jail and Matsun is most likely going to kill _many_ people.” Issei snickers and Takahiro rolls his eyes. “Says the setter who's going to come to us when he's going to have problems with his wonderful life.”

“Shut up.”

“You started it.”

Tooru distracts himself with the way Shigeru is staring at him. He smirks, crosses his arms and leans them on the table. “So, _captain_ ,” Shigeru's blush makes him chuckle. “Are you happy with your role?”

Shigeru only nods. “It's a huge responsibility,” and it's not only because he's captain. It is because he's a setter; a setter that has to replace Oikawa Tooru and also maintain Seijo at its current level, or possibly increase it. If he has to be honest, he's terrified. “But I'll do my best.”

Tooru observes the first and second-years, sees Yūtarō unnecessarily tense, dying to say something but at the same time not wanting to – the setter doesn't really want to pressure him. Akira is his usual quiet self, observing every single detail of the third-years, Tooru included. Kentarō is unusually quiet and Shinji is just happy to be here.

Tooru's lips curve up even more. A genuine smile for his team.

“ _My teammates are everything to me. I won't let them down.”_ He spoke those words a year ago, in front of all of them. He remembers spotting tears in their eyes when the interview was over. And he's glad he did. Because he would never take a word of it back.

“You've got quite a bunch here, Shige-chan. You're actually on a good road to become a _great_ captain.” He points at Kentarō. “You're even able to make Mad Dog-chan listen to you,” he glances at the spiker and finds an angry glare looking back. “Well, most of the times.”

Kentarō growls, and Tooru smirks. “You know, all you need is a steady hand and he listens.”

Hajime bursts laughing at the obvious statement and the others do to. Tooru's eyes widen and he feels his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “What?!” Hajime shakes his head and then hits him in the back of his head, but it's not nearly as hard as it is for his usual bullshit. “He doesn't listen to _you_ even when you raise your voice, Shittykawa.”

And it's true.

Sometimes it works, but it's rare.

Kentarō only listens to Hajime.

It's been like this ever since Hajime beat him in all those stupid games and races Kentarō has challenged him with. But it was thanks to those stupid games that Tooru has managed to work with him until now. All thanks to Hajime.

Tooru whines, holds the spot where he was hit. “You are so mean to me, Iwa-chan.” Hajime just rolls his eyes, but he's smiling.

Hazel eyes watch him laugh with the others, change subject and for a long moment, Tooru spaces out.

That is until Yūtarō breaks his line of thoughts. “And what about you, Oikawa-san? Where are you going to go next year?”

Takahiro laughs, glancing first at Hajime and then back at the setter. “Is the married couple staying together even in college? Can the angry husband Iwa-chan survive without killing the whiny wifey Oikawa?”

It is a joke, the way it comes out. But the question leaves Tooru frozen.

His eyes search for Hajime's, but the spiker is looking at the man who asked the question. Tooru feels like breaking down. Just what is he supposed to say? He's going to be in Tokyo and Hajime is going to be... where?

There are three more days left and school is going to be over. And he knows nothing.

“No.”

Tooru blinks.

Hajime answers the questions in two seconds.

He doesn't even have to think about it.

Tooru feel something in his chest shatter. And it seems to make a loud noise, which can be heard by him and him only. So he's not coming to Tokyo, is he?

His shoulders relax, his eyes close and he turns his head towards the others. He struggles to breathe, but he has to. Hajime's voice is unwavering, so firm and sure it's painful to listen. He could at least pretend he's bothered by their future distance. If only a little.

But then he grins, wraps an arm around Tooru's shoulders. “This asshole over here is going to Tokyo. He was scouted.”

“So you accepted the offer?!”

Shinji's eyes widen. “Oikawa-san's been scouted?”

Takahiro looks at him. “You didn't know?”

The libero shakes his head. “That's amazing, Oikawa-san!”

Tooru smiles at his excitement.

“But, Oikawa-san...”

“Yes?”

Akira hesitates before speaking, but he eventually does. “Isn't that where Ushijima Wakatoshi is going next year? I read about it the other day in Volleyball Monthly.”

Kentarō tenses dangerously, eyes focus dangerously on Tooru.

“Did you know about it?” Shigeru asks.

Tooru lowers his head – perhaps he should've told them sooner. He could even lie and get away with it, but it isn't right. “Yeah, I did.”

Kentarō jumps on him with a growl, pushes him down on the floor with his back and Tooru's body freezes. And if Hajime wasn't fast enough to stop him, the setter would've gotten a punch in his face, right underneath his left eye. But his spiker protects him, moves Kentarō off him and orders him to go to the other side of the table, far away from his spot.

The younger spiker listens, grunts irritatedly, but listens.

He _always_ listens to Hajime, after all.

Silence dawns upon the group.

Tooru barely finds his strength to sit back up.

Weirdly enough, Hajime isn't helping him.

Tooru is the first to leave the table, as soon as he finishes the food on his plate, not even one hour after the incident. This night is over for him.

***

On graduation day, things go exactly as expected. Third-years try to get to spend their last school hours together and just before they all leave to their respective houses (or restaurants to celebrate), after a way too long ceremony, the first-years and second-years finally approach with tears in their eyes.

Tooru can assure he's going to remember some of his classmates and all of his team far in the future, takes a mental note to visit the underclassmen during holidays.

Another chapter of his life is about to come to an end and the thought of it stings.

“Oikawa-san... Farewell. Don't forget to visit when you can,” his teammates tell him.

His fan girls too make their way to him as soon as the bell rings, and he ends up having to reject a dozen of last-minute love confessions and still manages to get bags with presents and homemade sweets he doesn't mind sharing with Hajime whenever he can.

It all ends soon.

Maybe even too soon for his taste. He feels bitterness on his tongue and his eyes burn.

But he doesn't cry until he's alone, with only Hajime by his side, and they allow those few tears to come out and their chests to hurt until their bodies become numb to the feeling of nostalgia and they're ready to get composed once again.

Hajime watches Tooru struggle with all the bags he received and, after a jab in the ribs because “why the hell do you accept all of this shit if you eventually end up throwing it away?” he eventually sighs and gives him a hand to carry the heaviest ones.

Tooru thanks him and they make their way out of the gates, feel a weight lift from their shoulders and another, much heavier than the previous, place on them instead.

It's a beautiful day indeed. Perfect for sentimental occasions like this.

Tooru doesn't speak for a long while and instead sticks to following Hajime, without asking where they are going because he honestly doesn't give a damn.

But honestly, when he sees they're walking into the park where they always used to play when they were kids, he can't hold back a smile. A genuine one. “Iwa-chan, it's been a while since we last came here.” Hajime doesn't reply and instead nods, before heading to the nearest bench and letting himself fall on it, letting the bags fall at his feet.

“Remember when you made me fall by crashing onto me while chasing the one and only beetle that managed to get away from you?” Tooru asks him after the memory flashes in front of his eyes. He can't help but welcome the warm feeling it brings along.

They were six at that time, which means it happened twelve years ago. And yet, Tooru remembers it as if it happened yesterday.

Tooru joins him on the bench, but he can't help but notice how painfully natural it is for him to put distance between them, as minimal as it is.

Hajime notices too.

But says nothing.

It's been a couple of days since this started going on, and yet none of them has ever brought up any of it.

Tooru pouts. “I got hurt that time, you know?”

Hajime laughs. “Yeah, you sniveled like a little girl.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan!” This time Tooru gives him a light slap on the shoulder. Hajime just snickers. But that one simple gesture on Tooru's part is more than enough for him to get closer. Unintentionally, but perfectly naturally.

Tooru's hand lingers on Hajime's shoulder for a tad longer than it has during their brief contacts of the last days they spent together. And Hajime watches it, observes _him._

Maybe he stares too much, because Tooru tilts his head on his side. “What is it, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime's eyes are focused on those lips. The question sinks in a little later.

He turns his head away immediately.

“Nothing.”

There are a bunch of kids playing on the playground in front of them and they both remember when they were little, when the other kids kept bugging Hajime to play with them, but were always refused because Hajime didn't want to leave Tooru alone. He remembers how difficult it was for him to socialize... Such a funny fact compared to his glorious reputation among both, boys and girls, today.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah?”

“It's over, huh?”

 _This_.

This part of their lives they have learned to cherish since forever. There is no more room for losing control, for mistakes. No more room for games or childish laughs or simple actions that used to brighten every single day of theirs. After today, it's going to be all gone.

“I guess it is,” Hajime replies quietly.

An image of Tooru flashes before Hajime's eyes, a shirt with a tiny alien printed on his sleeve, a volleyball in his hands – at the time too big for him to handle as good as he does today – and a bright smile; so bright Hajime was left blinded and still is, even though it is only a mere memory.

He wants to punch himself.

He can't stop his heart from beating so impossibly fast. His ribcage is hurting.

Tooru leans on the bench fully, throws his head back and allows his hazel eyes to meet the beautiful blue of the sky above them. “Ushiwaka-chan and I are leaving for Tokyo in three weeks. He says he wants to show me around so I can get used to the place before lessons start.”

Hajime's heart stops.

And his breath is kicked out of his lungs in a fraction of a second.

Three weeks.

“Oh.”

 _Three_ weeks.

Twenty-one days.

Only twenty-one days before his routine comes to an end. Only twenty-one days where he's going to be able to spend his time like he used to his entire life until now; to talk to Tooru on regular basis, to have those dumb sleepovers (damn, how he wishes he had said yes those _few_ times he refused him), to kick him, hear him complain or ramble about his usual shit.

In three weeks all of that is going to stop.

He exhales.

“What's with that face, Iwa-chan?”

That voice pulls him back to earth and from there on, it takes him nothing to frown. “It's my usual face, Shittykawa.”

“No, it's not,” Tooru immediately spits.

Hajime freezes, hopes he won't notice it despite him being a master in reading people. _'Please don't.'_

Tooru's eyes tell him otherwise. He is going to do something. He straightens up, rotates his body so he's fully focused on the spiker and Hajime curses in the back of his mind. He watches that pout turn into a small smile and arms cross. “Iwa-chan... You know me the best, don't you? You always read my moods, know when something's wrong and especially know how to make me say it. I am an open book for you, am I not?”

Hajime shivers.

“Well,” Tooru licks his lips. “You sometimes forget it's the same for me when it comes to you. You are an open book to me, _Hajime._ ”

Green eyes look away, but it isn't enough for Tooru to back down. Instead, he only moves closer to him. “Now spit it out.”

Hajime hesitates.

It is so hard.

Too hard.

“In three weeks, our lives are going to turn upside down.” Just the fact that he's saying it makes it even more real. The tight feeling in his chest starts to grow and he feels nauseous. God, how he hates this.

But Tooru doesn't change the topic, keeps his focus on him and Hajime has never felt more unwillingly exposed.

Tooru notices the growing tension between them and sighs, backing away ever so slightly, but enough to prevent Hajime from exploding. He looks at the ground, the smile from before gone and forgotten. “You know, Iwa-chan... You are completely right. But do you know what bothers me the most?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. Though he does have an idea.

Still, he lets him continue.

And Tooru does.

Oh, he does.

“In three weeks our lives are going to change and you know perfectly how my is going to be, where and with whom. I, however, know nothing about yours,” his voice trembles, weakens just enough for both of them to be aware of it. He swallows. “Nothing at all.”

Hajime sighs. He can't hide it anymore. Besides, Tooru is his best friend, so he ought to know.

“I chose medicine.”

Tooru's eyes widen, his breath leaves and everything around them seems to disappear.

He collects himself before it can last too long. He laughs. “Oh, Iwa-chan wants to be a doctor!”

Hajime gets lost in the fondness of those eyes. And the moment is perfect, but Tooru just has to ruin it. His smile turns into a smirk. “Are you sure your brain can handle it, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime hits him.

Tooru yelps and then laughs. “That's not a good start, Iwa-chan. You can't hurt people if you're going to be a doctor.”

Hajime clicks with his tongue. “Well, I could make an exception with you.”

“Please don't!”

They both laugh.

“Ne, Iwa-chan? Did you already choose what sector do you want to get into? There are lots of roads you can choose in medicine...”

Hajime observes him, doesn't lose time to even think about it.

“Sports medicine.”

Tooru blinks. “Already so sure of it?”

Hajime nods, looks away and back towards the kids in front of them. He feels Tooru's gaze on him, so still and focused he feels his blood rush in his veins. He can't take this.

“How so?”

Hajime smiles. He should know that answer. “It's thanks to you.”

Tooru is now clearly confused. “Thanks to me? But we never talked about your future... Are you sure that empty head of yours is okay?” He receives a jab in the ribs and immediately shuts up. “Cut it off, Shittykawa,” Hajime warns him. Tooru gets ready to listen.

Hajime lowers his head. “When you hurt your knee two years ago, you went through such a pain it was awful to watch.” Tooru stiffens. “I just couldn't stand to see you like that. I _don't want_ to see you like that again, because after all your hard work, you don't deserve it. Just like no one else does. So I want to prevent it, I want to prevent others to suffer like you did,” _and I want to properly take care of you. This time I will succeed._

And he is forced to stop playing volleyball to focus on his studies, then he will.

Tooru is going to stay on court, with Wakatoshi, and he is going to watch from the sidelines, praying for him to be fine and not to get hurt.

Hajime doesn't see Tooru's expression, and he must admit that the lack of words on his part is kind of scary. He doesn't know if he should add anything else, but he pretty much told him everything. Almost everything.

But then Tooru's hand is moving on top of his, holding tight. And Hajime has never felt more at peace, feeling those calluses on his skin. He feels him getting closer and then placing his head on his shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck.

Hajime doesn't bother to ask him to stop, doesn't even mention how inappropriate this gesture is because of the time or place or any of the decisions he made. He doesn't care. Having Tooru like this is enough.

He feels him smile against his skin.

“I'm sure you're going to make it. And you're going to be great.”

Hajime hopes he's right.

***

“Ne, Ushiwaka-chan?”

“What is it, Oikawa?”

Tooru sighs, puts down the menu and orders the usual ramen he gets whenever he comes to this particular kiosk, whether it's with Hajime, his team... And now with Wakatoshi too. He doesn't bother to listen what Wakatoshi order, too absorbed in his own thoughts.

Well... One thought.

“Do you think we'll be put in the same dorm room when we're in college?”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow at the quiet and so unusually concerned tone of voice. Tooru notices the way his words just came out, and immediately corrects the atmosphere between them. “I mean, I am so awesome and I understand you must want pretty bad to end up as my roommate. So, shouldn't you send a letter to the university? You know, there are looots of students there, so what if you aren't the lucky one who'll get me?”

Wakatoshi keeps looking at him, because he knows Tooru isn't even near the word “done”.

“But if I think about it, it would be awesome if I ended up with Fukurodani's Bokuto, or with Nekoma's Kuroo – that would be fun, wouldn't it?” He turns around to face Wakatoshi with a mocking smirk.

Wakatoshi, however, stays perfectly impassible as usual. “That won't happen.”

Tooru blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You don't have to concern about your possible roommates, as we are not going to live in the dorms,” Wakatoshi states calmly, mumbling then a quiet and polite thank you to the man who works there, who hands him the drink he ordered.

Tooru doesn't do the same, only focuses on the spiker next to him.

“Are we renting an apartment?”

“It's not needed.”

Tooru is more confused than ever, and the way he huffs shows it perfectly. “Ushiwaka-chan, are you telling me you want to live on the street perhaps? I know you have wild instincts – after all the marks he keeps leaving on him, Tooru doesn't want to believe anything else – but don't you think that's a little too much even for you?”

Wakatoshi looks at him with an expression Tooru laughs at immediately, but truly, he cannot even understand how Tooru could possibly have asked something so... _stupid_ , given the subject of their conversation. He has his umpteenth concern of not understanding him.

But still, it's about time he tells him; after all, there are two weeks until they are going leaving for Tokyo. Wakatoshi suggested to get there a week before the lessons start, so he can show him around and help him orientate even just a little bit, until he gets used to it.

“We aren't going to have any troubles for the accommodation, as we both can stay at my apartment.”

Tooru almost spits the sip he took of his drink.

His head turns towards Wakatoshi so fast the spiker believes it could fall off. Hazel eyes stare at him in shock.

“At _your_ apartment?” He coughs a couple of times, trying not to choke, but when he calms down, he looks at him once again. “ _You_ own an apartment in Tokyo?”

Wakatoshi nods. “Yes, I do.”

When Tooru keeps staring at him, Wakatoshi knows he owes him an explanation. “My parents bought it for me when I joined the volleyball club in junior high. As you already know, our team went to Nationals every year and since all the games are held in Tokyo, it came to be of a great use to me and it will still be as it is very close to the campus.”

Tooru's mouth gapes open, but Wakatoshi continues. “It came to be of an even greater use when I was convened to become a part of the national under-18 team.”

Even if Wakatoshi's words aren't meant to make him feel superior, Tooru still finds it incredibly annoying. He can't help but get pissed off whenever he hears about the success the spiker has managed to obtain. He looks away, pouts and crosses his arms, leaning them on the counter.

“I see you're still so humble, huh? And what makes you think I want to stay at your apartment? I could live in the dorm and I'd still be just fine.”

Wakatoshi fails to notice the tone of his voice, fails to understand how angry Tooru is in this very moment. And his answer comes blunt as usual, even though he is indeed feeling hurt by Tooru's possible rejection. “If you don't want to, it is not a problem.”

Tooru groans in frustration. He only knows how to make it worse, doesn't he?

“You are an idiot!”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow.

“You insist for six years for me to come with you and now that I said yes, you're okay with me not staying with you?!”

Now, Wakatoshi doesn't expect this. He's been told and was able to witness lots of mood swings from the girls in his school, but he never really expected to find the same problem bothering Tooru as well. He feels agitated, doesn't know how he's supposed to handle him. “Oikawa, it was you who said you don't want to stay with me in my apartment, so it is not my intention to force you to.”

“I didn't say that!”

Wakatoshi doesn't seem to have heard him. “Unlike in a dorm, you could have your own room and much more space.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue, looks away. “It's not that...” He wouldn't mind sharing a room (or a bed) with Wakatoshi at all, but he's never going to admit that. Not even under torture.

Wakatoshi is panicking by now. He is glad he's able to conceal it so well. “Oikawa, I need you to help me understand.0 What is it that you want?”

Tooru balls his hands into fists, remembers seeing Wakatoshi on TV so many times, always victorious. He didn't need to be reminded.

“You could've asked without beating around the bush,” he mumbles quietly, but loud enough for Wakatoshi to hear it.

And Wakatoshi understands. Or... At least he thinks he understands.

“Oikawa.”

“What?”

“Would you like to live with me?”

Tooru turns to look at him, lips still in that pout of his. Wakatoshi stares, expects...

“Yes.”

Wakatoshi breathes.

***

Tooru watches his mother place his cup of tea in front of him and then sit in front of him, on the other side of the kitchen table. She's smiling, no. Grinning.

“My baby's finally grown up and ready to move on with his life,” she says, a little too excited for Tooru's taste. He blushes furiously. “Mom, don't say such embarrassing things, please!”

She shakes her head. “It's not embarrassing at all, especially because it's the truth.” She sighs, takes a sip of her tea and then looks out of the window, admiring the now dark sky of the night. And all the stars her son loves so much.

“I have to confess I'm a little bit scared.”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

The smile on her face turns a tad sadder, and Tooru doesn't fail to notice it. He still waits for her to answer his question. “You see... You are going to be in Tokyo, while I'll be staying here. I suppose I won't have to worry too much, since Wakatoshi-kun is going to look after you, but still...” Her hazel eyes move on Tooru, who's now looking away, lips pressed in a thin line. She tilts her head to the side. “You hated him so much once. Are you sure you have changed your mind and won't kill him when you have the chance?”

Tooru chuckles, bu still doesn't meet her eyes. “From the way things look like right now, it seems I'll have to live with him for the next five years. I suppose that should be enough to convince you things are fine,” he tells her. “But I'll still do my best to complicate his life until I'm satisfied.”

His mother laughs. “Don't be too cruel.” She takes another sip and then smiles once more. “I'm glad... For you two. I saw the way his eyes lighted up when he saw you coming back last time. I left me breathless. It'd be sad if you didn't requite it at all, you know?”

Tooru listens to her, doesn't know whether he should smile or what. It seems his mother has managed to get attached to him, like so many people did before him. He's still blinded, and he knows it. But he can't let all of his grudges go. Not yet at least. It'd be too easy.

But he's trying.

Wakatoshi is not bad for him; this last month has been more than enough of a proof.

He closes his eyes, decides to enjoy his mother's company and the tea. There is a week and a half left.

“What's going to happen between you and Hajime-kun?”

Tooru opens his eyes. “What is supposed to happen with Iwa-chan?”

The woman wraps her hands around the warm cup, her eyes lose themselves inside the liquid. “Well, you two have known each other since you were babies, now you won't be able to-”

“We'll still be best friends. That won't end. Ever.”

She doesn't react to his words like she should though. Instead she just shrugs. “I have to be honest with you, Tooru. I am happy for you, and for the career you're going to have from now on, but I'm still sad of how your relationship ended. I'm glad nothing's changed between you despite everything.”

Tooru is definitely confused now. Maybe she misunderstood what there's always been. She's never been the type of mother who'd complain if her son didn't have the perfect life she pictured for him, but it looks like her ideas weren't clear. “There's never been more than friendship between us, mom.”

The woman blinks a couple of times, gives him a confused look. Then she chuckles and shakes her head in disbelief. “Tooru... You are so perceptive when it comes to other people, but when it comes to you, you are a complete idiot.”

Tooru stills, eyes wide, lungs left with no oxygen.

“ _It's not your fault.”_

It was reassurance when he spoke to him that way, Tooru remembers clearly. Whenever he cried himself to sleep, or was ready to break down, Hajime stepped in and took all the blame from him.

Tooru knows it was all brought upon Hajime instead.

“ _You're overworking yourself!”_

Worry. Tooru remembers seeing that one particular expression on his spiker's face whenever he was up for something stupid. Something that could hurt him, or in rare cases worsen the situation he was already in.

“ _Oh, a genuine smile... How rare.”_

That pleased, knowing look. Tooru doesn't remember ever seeing those green eyes shine so much.

“ _I'm sorry, Oikawa. You wanted to go against him one last time and I-”_

Hajime has never failed him.

And even when he's finally being capable of choosing to be selfish, this one time they both have hoped for ever since they started their last year in high school, he's choosing not to be. Because he let him go, breaking his own promise to follow him everywhere for Tooru's well being.

Tooru feels a tug in his chest, feels his eyes burning.

His mother is watching him with such a sad look on her face and Tooru can't help but sink further.

“ _Go with him.”_

It breaks through and rips it off.

Before he knows it, tears are already streaming down his face.

He doesn't bother to stop them.

Sinks even further.

.

.

.

They've always been more than friends.

_Always._

Tooru realizes it and learns to properly accept that there's always been something that is now over way too late.

But he doesn't want to go back. He _won't_ go back.

Not anymore.

“ _Go with him.”_

.

It's _over_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Here's a new chapter for you and I hope you are going to enjoy it while I prepare my heart for the terrible ache it'll suffer from when I'll be writing the next chapter. 
> 
> I think this first part is going to have either 14 or 15 chapters in total, but I'll update the information as soon as I decide the last few details. Then, I'll be taking a small break (and hopefully reread, correct and continue with Won't Let You Reach) and by September or October, depending on how much time I'll need to plan everything out, I'll be already working on the second part.
> 
> I don't have anything to say in particular about this chapter. I could come back in the future to reread it once again and correct a sentence or two, to add some little details, but I don't guarantee it. I like it simple like this, because I've been dying to write on another fragmented chapter.
> 
> I think that would be it for now. See ya on the next one. :)
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the lovely Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks.


	13. Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a good setter, Shirabu.” Wakatoshi's thumb runs over the back of his hand. “Don't underestimate yourself.”
> 
> Kenjirō manages to smile, and his heart hurts, hurts so badly it's clouding his vision. But the facts are clear. 'I'm not Oikawa-san...' He doesn't voice it.
> 
> ***
> 
> “What about your dreams, Iwa-chan?”
> 
> Hajime would be lying if he said the question doesn't catch him off guard.

Wakatoshi wakes up to the silence of an early morning on a Wednesday. He gets up from his futon, moves to begin and end his morning routine as soon as possible and then prepares himself for volleyball practice. He picks a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet, as well as a pair of extra socks and underwear to put on after he's done showering and heads out.

The gym of Shiratorizawa Academy is always open to the players, even during holidays, because a prestigious school like theirs just can't deny their students their will to get stronger – the ones who got in because they were scouted learned to value this possibility quite a lot.

Wakatoshi is the one who values it the most.

He likes to train very early in the morning, between seven and ten, when most people are still home, sleeping soundly. He likes to practice on his serves, or the strength of his spikes – the wall can't complain about the pain and that is indeed nice; so he doesn't have to hold back – when no one is around to bother him. After people start coming in, he just asks someone to toss to him for a while and then leaves.

He likes the fresh air hitting on his skin as he walks at a slow pace; today he chooses the route through the largest park, which is the shortest. It is a shame he hasn't managed to convince Tooru to join him, but the setter clearly told him he wants to spend his last days with his family and closest friends – Wakatoshi knows it's only Hajime, but he didn't bother to say anything.

Two more days and it's going to be only him _and_ Tooru, a brand new, strong team. And _no one else_.

Half an hour later, he is at school and as always, it's deserted, so he makes his way to his destination, greets the guard who takes care so no students of other schools sneak in to spy on the various teams – he did a poor job with Tooru, but Wakatoshi doesn't mind that one little mistake.

He stops by the locker room to put on his shorts and a t-shirt and then gets ready to start his warm up. When he's in the hall, he hears some noise coming from the gym and immediately moves to check out the source of it. He moves quietly, opens the door and when gold eyes meet the court, he finds none other than Kenjirō.

The setter is standing behind the white line, a ball in his hands and eyes focused on the net. He takes in a deep breath, throws the ball in the air and jumps. His hand comes in contact with it and sends it flying to the other side of the net, making it land among the dozens already there.

Wakatoshi observes it. It is an average performance – the ball is extremely easy to receive and was aimed to a quite “safe” spot. It can't be compared to his own, or to Tooru's.

“The jump serve doesn't suit you, Shirabu,” he tells him, finally taking the few steps needed for the younger boy to spot him.

Kenjirō freezes on the spot, eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

“You should practice on your tosses or your blocking instead.”

The shame that overcomes him is heavy – he knows serves aren't his thing; he's always been... _average_. But he's always thought that, if he put some more effort in them, he would've gotten better. It seems this isn't the case. And Wakatoshi is the last person he wanted to see him practice on it. He knows the spiker doesn't have the intention to offend him, but his sincere tone is making it even harder.

Kenjirō swallows the critique quietly, tries to collect himself.

“Hello, Ushijima-san. What brings you here?”

“I came here to practice.” He pauses then, gold scans the setter from his head to his feet. “I didn't think I would find somebody so early.”

For a moment, Kenjirō thinks about leaving, thinks that Wakatoshi must _want_ him to leave – but then he figures that he would've already been told to if that was the case. “Would you like to practice together?”

“Yes,” Wakatoshi replies immediately – practicing spikes with a setter is much better than just slamming the ball against the wall. He can practice on his serve later.

Kenjirō waits the ten minutes Wakatoshi needs to warm up and then walks under the net, the cart with volleyballs next to him. With one nod on Wakatoshi's part, he tosses to him and his eyes once again have the wonderful privilege of seeing Wakatoshi spike. The strength, the speed... Kenjirō is in love with all of it.

“One more,” says Wakatoshi right after landing.

Kenjirō nods. Perhaps a bit too eagerly for his usual self.

The rest of Wakatoshi's spiking practice is spent in silence – the only words being Wakatoshi's requests for each toss. Kenjirō isn't surprised to receive often requests of high tosses. After all, it's where Wakatoshi spikes best and it's hard to pull it off in a game every single time.

 _'Maybe Oikawa-san could do it,'_ Kenjirō thinks and his muscles tense. The toss he sends to Wakatoshi is too fast. He manages to spike it anyway, but Kenjirō earns a sharp look he doesn't like to feel on his skin.

They keep going for a while and Kenjirō starts to have this idea in his head that just doesn't go away.

“Ushijima-san?”

Wakatoshi stops. “Yes?”

“Can we exchange positions? You toss and I spike.”

Now, Kenjirō knows this isn't exactly the best thing he could ask from Wakatoshi. Wakatoshi doesn't toss – he's an ace, _the_ ace and during a game he'd rather move away and let the ball hit the floor or be tossed by someone else than doing it himself. It's just the way he is.

When no answer comes within twenty seconds and a steady gaze keeps staring at him, Kenjirō lowers his head in embarrassment. He grips the ball, ready to toss once more.

“We could try that.”

Kenjirō stiffens, and he's pretty sure Wakatoshi notices it by the way he tilts his head to the side. He must be joking, right?

But then Wakatoshi is taking a step forward, his hands are reaching out and grabbing the ball in the setter's hands, their fingers brushing together. Kenjirō feels his blood rush in his veins and lets go of it and soon after puts some distance between them and gets ready for the spike.

Wakatoshi tosses the ball in the air, Kenjirō jumps, but isn't able to spike because the toss is definitely too high for him. He lands, watches it roll away towards the benches. None of them say anything and instead try again. This time Wakatoshi tosses with less force, but as Kenjirō is very close to the border line, the ball doesn't even get to him.

The third time Kenjirō finally manages to spike. He can't use his full strength, because he has to reach out incredibly high to get to the way too fast ball and ends up having to replace lots of his strength with control. It lands on the other side of the net, but if a libero was there, it would've been received like nothing.

They keep going, but Wakatoshi's tosses are imprecise and only a few times does Kenjirō manage to touch it.

The setter doesn't fail to notice Wakatoshi's mood changing, even if to other people it could seem like nothing. But Kenjirō knows he's getting nervous, so when he lands on the floor, he waves his hand. “I think that would be it, Ushijima-san. It's clear we both suck at this.”

He tries to end it with a laugh, but Wakatoshi is glaring at him and it refrains him from doing so. He realizes only a moment later that he just told Wakatoshi he _sucks_ at something. He takes a step back, bows slightly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.”

He still feels guilty. “Can we practice receives? I want to get better at those.” Truth to be told, Kenjirō doesn't really look forward to those, but spiking seems to calm down Wakatoshi, so he is willing to sacrifice his arms, even if just a little (he highly doubts he can last long), to make him feel better. After all, today is the last chance he has to play with the spiker he's always wanted to play for.

Tomorrow Wakatoshi is going to be gone from Miyagi and he doesn't know when, _if_ he's going to have a chance to see him again.

Wakatoshi looks at him. “Are you sure?”

Kenjirō isn't sure at all. He's seen too many ice packs and bandages on the coach's bench, especially during this last year, when Satori, Eita and Tsutomu decided it was time to get hurt and asked Wakatoshi to spike so they could receive. They were even more masochistic because they wanted a setter to toss to him. Kenjirō can't say he enjoyed seeing his teammates' arms becoming red and purple after just a couple of spikes.

He doesn't even know why they kept going when they knew that after a few more receives, practice would be over for them. Kenjirō never missed their pained grimaces.

“Of course.”

He lowers on his knees, gets ready for what is about to come next. Wakatoshi tosses the ball, Kenjirō watches it fly up and the large hand going after it.

And then Wakatoshi hits it, _slams_ it towards the setter, and the latter can't hold back a grunt when it comes in contact with his arms, before bouncing away to the side. The sting it leaves behind doesn't go away even after he takes in a few deep breaths.

They keep it up.

Every ball Kenjirō receives adds a new shade of red on pale skin and more pain to tag along. But Wakatoshi is merciless – the setter has asked for it, so he doesn't blame him nor he complains.

By the tenth spike, Kenjirō is panting, fighting the tears threatening to come out from the corner of his eyes. He catches his breath, but before he's ready to even get back in the right position, Wakatoshi is spiking again.

This time Kenjirō receives it way too incorrectly and ends up collapsing.

He yelps when his butt comes in contact with the hard wooden floor, brings his hands to his arms and _damn_ , it hurts to the mere touch. His eyes observe the bright red, some zones already turning purplish and black and he knows that it's going to be much worse after he's out of the shower.

He keeps taking in deep breaths, tries his best to control himself even though he didn't imagine for their last moments together to end like this. He hears footsteps approaching him and is so ashamed to look up, but he eventually does, finding Wakatoshi only a couple of steps away from him, the ball in one hand.

“I believe this is enough for today.”

A hand is offered to him soon after and Kenjirō's eyes widen. “Allow me to help you stand up,” Wakatoshi tells him. So he _is_ going to help him – the ace who never turns back to check on his teammates is going to help him.

Hesitantly, Kenjirō reaches out to him, takes his hand and immediately feels a strong grip around him. Less than a second later, he is pulled on his feet and brought closer to the spiker. He reluctantly lets go of him when it's over.

“We should stretch,” Wakatoshi suggests, figuring he won't be training any more either, and Kenjirō nods, proposing to do it together, to make it faster and easier.

They finish fifteen minutes later, get up from the wooden floor and pick up the balls, put them back in the cart and then gather the net and bring everything to the storage room. Kenjirō locks it and takes the key with himself to the changing room, where they usually hold it for the first person who arrives in the morning.

Once inside, they go to their lockers. Kenjirō has always hated his own, because it's so distant from Wakatoshi's – they're always back to back and he can't even take a look at him without having Satori giving him awfully knowing glances.

This time they're alone though.

He feels blood rushing to his cheeks.

And then he hears Wakatoshi shutting the locker and a shuffle of clothes, which soon after land on the floor. Kenjirō's breath hitches in his throat. He doesn't have the courage to look.

Sure, he's seen Wakatoshi naked before, but they have never been alone in the room and if there's no one to hold him back, he... He's going to lose control. He can't do that; not when he has lasted for six endless years.

He curses himself mentally, tries to stop his hands from shaking.

“I'll be going then,” Wakatoshi speaks and Kenjirō only manages to spit a chocked mumble and a light nod. He hears footsteps going towards the shower room and only when he's sure Wakatoshi can't see him at all, he dares to look his way.

His mouth starts to water, and he barely holds his own drool in. He's seen this. So many times.

And yet...

He shakes his head, waits for Wakatoshi to disappear behind the curtain of the first cubicle and then slaps his cheeks, taking in deep breaths. _'Calm down...'_ he orders himself and when he does, he removes the rest of his clothes and takes the cubicle next to the spiker's.

He turns on the cold water, shudders when it hits him. But he _needs_ it. He needs it, or he'll lose his mind, get out of here and force his way on Wakatoshi. And that won't end well... for him of course.

Fortunately, the sting he feels in his arms makes it easier not to think about the man and soon, the water starts to feel good against him and he relaxes, lets it wash away the sweat. He closes his eyes, throws his head back, sighs.

Suddenly the water stops running in Wakatoshi's cubicle, he hears it being turned off and realizes he doesn't even know for how long he's been in a daze. So he washes himself quickly, winces at how much the pain has gotten stronger now that there's no more adrenaline to keep it down.

By the time he's over and is stepping out of the shower, Wakatoshi is already by his locker, his pants on and in the middle of putting on his t-shirt. Kenjirō wraps the towel he has brought with himself around his waist and walks towards him, but instead of reaching him, he turns to his right and sits down on one of the benches. His red arms fall to his sides and he lowers his head.

Wakatoshi stops in his movements, gold focuses on the younger boy.

“Ushijima-san?”

“Yes?”

“I...” the setter swallows, “I think I'll need some ice. Could you... Could you bring it for me? I don't think I can-” He doesn't finish the sentence, tiredness overwhelms him and his muscles start to ache.

“Yes. I shall return in a moment.”

Without saying anything else, Wakatoshi exits the room, walks to the gym and opens the small freezer next to the coach's bench. He pulls out the largest ice pack and then returns to the changing room. He finds Kenjirō in the same position, though his body seems even limper by now.

“Here you are.”

Kenjirō seems to notice him only after he speaks and then reaches out to take the item from the larger hand. He observes his wounds and decides to ice his right arm first, as it seem in worse condition than the other. He sighs when it makes contact with bruised skin and immediately does he curse himself.

He's an idiot.

“I shouldn't have asked you to spike for me.”

Wakatoshi blinks; doesn't hesitate. “You are right, you shouldn't have. Not when you knew how it would've ended.”

“I know.” Even though the answer is perfectly obvious, Kenjirō still fills as if he had just received a punch in the stomach. He even feels the tingle of it. “I know... But I wanted to try it at least _once_. It was my last chance and...” His body starts to shake.

Wakatoshi observes the mess in front of himself and something inside of him starts to feel weird. Not the weird he feels with Tooru, but it's very similar to it. He takes a step forward, places himself in front of the boy and then crouches down. His hand moves to steal the white bag from trembling ones and he proceeds to massage the injuries himself.

Kenjirō jolts, eyes go wide for a split second.

_'So gentle...'_

And then he feels burning tears spilling and coming down his cheeks. Five seconds later, he's sobbing quietly and Wakatoshi looks up. “Am I hurting you?”

Kenjirō shakes his head, cries harder. “No... _No_. Please, keep going.”

Wakatoshi is taking care of him. For the first time in six years, he is- He is treating him like a proper teammate and it makes Kenjirō's heart beat faster. He is so happy he could die, but why is it then that he feels like he's breaking down all over again?

Wakatoshi continues moving and slowly, silence dawns upon them – even the setter's sobs manage to quiet down, though the tears don't stop. They don't stop.

“You are a good setter, Shirabu.” Wakatoshi's thumb runs over the back of his hand. “Don't underestimate yourself.”

Kenjirō manages to smile, and his heart hurts, hurts so badly it's clouding his vision. But the facts are clear. _'I'm not Oikawa-san...'_ He doesn't voice it.

He blinks a couple of times and once his sight is clear more or less, brown eyes get back to observe every single detail of Wakatoshi's face, his strict but relaxed expression... He is gorgeous, it's everything Kenjirō manages to think about. And it's not just the way he looks like, it's- Kenjirō finds it both, a blessing and a curse, the way he's able to read through him like others can't. He is so simple though, so the others must be idiots.

“Ushijima-san?”

Wakatoshi looks up.

“Can I kiss you?”

Wakatoshi stops, a hand wrapped around a slender wrist, the other one frozen in midair. Kenjirō feels a lump in his throat, his eyes burn, burn, burn. More tears come out.

“Why?”

A breath.

Two.

Three.

“Because _I love you_ , Ushijima-san.”

There is a moment of silence, during which Kenjirō only wants to sink into the darkest depths of the earth. Wakatoshi is staring at him, impassible, so distant. “Ushijim-”

“Won't it be worse?” he finally asks.

Kenjirō's eyes are starting to burn, his breathing gets weaker... How can he _not_ get it? His blunt nails dig into the skin of his bare thighs and yet, he can't help but curve his lips up in a weak and desperate smile. “I love _you_. Is there anything that can possibly be worse than this?”

Ushijima Wakatoshi has always been Oikawa Tooru's property, even when the setter refused to accept his existence. Even when they battled on court, even when insults were everything coming their way.

Even when everything on Tooru's mind was Iwaizumi Hajime.

Wakatoshi has never been free to take.

_Never._

Kenjirō, despite wanting to struggle against this odd law of nature, has accepted it ever since he assisted at one of their many meetings.

“If this is what you really want...”

Brown eyes widen.

In a fraction of a second, Wakatoshi is raising up and Kenjirō feels those large, calloused hands cup his face and pull him closer, closer, _closer._

His blood rushes so fast he believes his own veins are going to get crushed by the immense pressure. Hot breath is over his mouth and he allows himself to close his eyes when their lips meet.

It is a simple kiss, just lips against lips in a gentle brush, and in Kenjirō's mind it is _“so Ushijima like”_ , but it's perfect. All the nervousness from before stops, disappears, and he melts into it, lets the spiker steal his breath away.

Wakatoshi is about to pull away soon after, way too soon for Kenjirō's taste, so he doesn't let him. He raises his arms, gives his best shot at suppressing the painful whimper he wants to let out, and his hands claw on those broad shoulders, keeping him in place as he reclaims his lips.

The setter wastes no time and licks Wakatoshi's bottom lip, asking for entrance and once the spiker grants it to him, he lets himself fall forward, landing on the floor with his knees so they're at the same level. His hands make their way over his body, touching, feeling and remembering every part of him.

When his fingertips reach the man's ribcage, he is blocked, his wrists immobilized by pure warmth. So he opens his eyes, meets gold and it's all it takes for him to extirpate every single bit of his pride and throw it under his feet until it's crashed and forgotten.

“ _Please_ , Ushijima-san... Please.”

Something seems to hit the man, as his hold on him weakens and he is free to move again. Kenjirō kisses him again, touches every part of him he believes is sensitive to the touch: his arms, his chest, his ribs... A shiver runs down the setter's spine when he feels the hardness of the muscles of his abs and tries to embroider it in his mind to never make it disappear.

His thumb reach the waistband of his sweatpants, while his other hand starts to slip under the black t-shirt to feel the hot skin on his back against his fingertips, and then he's blocked again. This time it's tighter.

He realizes it's over when his hands are moved back to his sides and away from him.

Only when he touches his own skin, he calms down and meets gold again, an apologetic look on his face. “I... I'm sorry, Ushijima-san,” he mumbles, “I asked for one kiss and then I took advantage of it and I-”

“It doesn't matter.”

But it _does_.

The heavy lump in Kenjirō's throat makes it matter.

Weakness overcomes him and he lets himself fall forward, forehead pressed against a muscled shoulder. He just can't help it, tears resume flowing freely even though he's already cursing them. Wakatoshi's hand finds its way to his forearm, but instead of pushing him again, Kenjirō feels soothing caresses on himself.

It's all it takes.

“I love you, Ushijima-san...”

It is a mere whisper, but the silence in the room is too thick for it not to be heard.

Wakatoshi closes his eyes, lets out a quiet breath. “I can't reciprocate your feelings, Shirabu. I apologize.”

Kenjirō cries freely by then and is so glad that Wakatoshi is still there, despite his awful state. “I know you may not want it, but,” he takes in a deep breath, “can I spend the rest of today with you?”

When Wakatoshi doesn't reply, he gets terrified; he pulls away, eyes begging. “I promise I won't try anything and-”

“Yes, you can. So _stop_ crying.”

Kenjirō doesn't cry anymore. Even though he wants to.

***

“ _You are a partner that I can boast around with, and a really amazing setter. Even if the team changes, that won't change.”_

Ever.

“ _But when we fight, I will defeat you.”_

_._

“ _Bring it on!”_

***

Hajime has learned to curse Wednesdays after these last two months. They even managed to beat Mondays at some point and that definitely requires skill in terms of bringing bad luck to people (to himself and a certain brown-haired setter). Though, if he thinks about it, maybe things are changing. Maybe Wednesdays want to redeem themselves, since finally, _finally_ , he's able to spend one lazying on the couch with his best friend.

He's leaving for Tokyo in two days and Hajime is one of the few people he wants to stay with in these last moments, or so he has said. His eyes focus on the TV, where two of the strongest universities' teams are playing.

“Why are we watching this again?”

“Iwa-chaaan! I already told you I want to see who I'm going to play against next year.”

Hajime rolls his eyes. He's not going to change.

Ever.

He doesn't know why,but the thought of it makes him smile. He's going to stay the same way he's always known him. He feels warmth overcome him at the mere thought and he is grateful Tooru is so focused on the screen, so he can't see just how much awe there is in his eyes right now. He curses himself for noticing it and still acting like this.

“You are an idiot,” he mutters and the surprised look he receives in return makes him chuckle.

“What the hell, Iwa-chan?! What did I do to deserve insults this time?!”

Hajime says nothing.

Tooru pouts, but doesn't keep going with the conversation.

Hajime gets back to looking at the screen. The Osaka team (he doesn't remember the name of the team, but who cares; if he'll need it in the future, he can learn it) loses the set. The setter tossed it to the wrong spiker and they were blocked. No one managed to catch the ball.

“That's a shame,” Hajime mumbles – he doesn't really mean it.

“Nah, they're a good team, Iwa-chan,” Tooru begins, a fond smile and a distant look on his face. “There are good players and only a few of them need some major improvement. Still, that number four has talent; the setter should've used him more.”

Hajime snorts. “Yeah, like you could do better.”

He wants to slap himself as soon as those words leave his mouth. Of course he could do better. So much better. And yet, Tooru smirks. “I could, and I _would_ have done better, if I was in that match.”

Hajime rolls his eyes. It seems that spending time with Wakatoshi and his terrible personality has started to affect him too. Damn him. He raises his leg and kicks him in the stomach. Tooru whines. “Iwa-chan! So mean!”

“You're being arrogant.”

“I'm being _sincere_!”

Another kick.

“You are such a brute!”

With that, Tooru sits up properly and in no time, jumps towards Hajime, landing on top of him and ruffling his hair wildly. Hajime groans, fights back, tries to do the same – he knows it's impossible; Tooru doesn't allow his hair to be treated like this, so in cases where Hajime is under him, it is impossible to mess it up.

Things get worse when Tooru's skilled fingers find their way to his sides, sending that annoying ticklish feeling all over his body. He starts laughing and Tooru is laughing too, but there is that sadistic gleam in his eyes that just breaks it for Hajime.

He shifts against him, grabs his hands and pulls him on top of him, immobilizing him with a tight hold until he stops moving and when he does, Hajime finally lets himself go and relaxes, arms now fully wrapped around the setter, whose head is lying on his shoulder.

“You are so mean to me, Iwa-chan. It's almost like you have started to hate me.”

“I've _always_ hated you.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan! Mean! You're ruining the mood!”

Hajime laughs. His eyelids feel heavy, so he closes his eyes, throws his head back and lets Tooru's quiet, regular breathing, calm him down.

This is the last time he's going to be able to hold him like this. And then Tooru's leaving. And he's staying here. Sendai is the best choice for him. Definitely.

_Is it?_

Tooru sighs and the feeling is so damn good it makes his head spin.

“You know _I love you._ ”

It comes unexpected. Tooru stiffens and Hajime whimpers. What did he just say to him? He curses himself for letting his mind wander freely and his lips for stealing what it's been carrying around ever since they first met and were conscious of it. Was it at age of three? Hajime isn't sure.

Tooru takes in a deep breath and sits up, straddling the spiker's hips

Hajime doesn't fail to notice the shiny light in those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes.

He's screwed.

“What did you just say to me?”

Hajime says nothing.

“Iwa-chan. _What_ did you just say to me?”

Hajime swallows. “Just forget about it. It's not important,” _please._ He hopes this is enough, but then... It's Tooru, that perceptive bastard.

And he's looking at him, staring at him wide-eyed. “Wh... How can it _not_ be important?!” he asks, and Hajime can hear the faint desperation in the tone of his voice, can feel his hand looking for his on the lower part of his back. But Hajime won't let him take it.

He sits up, tries to push him off, but Tooru tenses his muscles, gives everything he can to put as much of his weight on him as he can and he succeeds in his intent. Hajime freezes, now unable to move. He almost forgot about Tooru's strength, most of the times hidden, but enough to push him down and keep him in place.

Tooru's hands move on his shoulders, push him down so he's lying once again. Hajime doesn't struggle, doesn't resist, and instead sighs heavily. “Tell me what you want me to say.”

Tooru grits his teeth and instinctively pushes against him. “The truth. I only want the truth from you.”

Hajime finally finds the courage to look him in the eyes and finds wide hazel orbs and lips pressed in a thin line. He's furious.

“I...” he begins, quietly. “I thought you knew.” He curses himself for being this weak. He shouldn't be doing this to his best friend... There are two more days left and he's acting like a jerk, but his throat grows tighter and his chest is starting to ache considerably. “I thought you knew and pretended like it didn't matter. That would've been fine with me, you know?” He can't help but smile, because no matter how concealed the feelings between them, he still had his privilege of holding Tooru close, kiss him, have him...

He wonders if he's hurting him right now. He doesn't want to hurt him.

Tooru finds himself completely speechless – there are so many things he wants to say, but it seem like none wants to come out first. Hajime isn't himself today: he's behaving like a stranger and not like his best friend. It's odd... Especially when a month ago he was acting completely different than now.

Hajime sits up slowly, and this time Tooru lets him, moving off of him and sliding on the other side of the couch, pulling his legs to his chest and hugging them with his arms, eyes still fixed on the spiker.

“It was more than enough for me.”

Tooru winces.

Hajime only smiles bitterly.

“But then you changed. You lied to me, you hid _things_ from me...”

Tooru's blood freezes in his veins. Is this... his fault?

“Ushijima,” Hajime takes in a deep breath, “I know I can't compete with him, I never could. But at first, it was about volleyball only and now... It's about everything else as well.”

Tooru raises his eyebrows. “Everything else?”

“ _You_.”

_Oh._

Tooru's hands ball into fists, regrets start to gather in the pit of his stomach and a familiar feeling of nausea is starting to get to him. “Iwa-chan, I...”

Why is Hajime saying all of these things right now? Only a little while ago he told him to go with Wakatoshi, to keep pursuing his dreams, to reach the top... And he seemed to be fine with it. It was bitter, yeah. But Hajime has always-

Tooru's eyes widen.

Hajime has _always_ taken care of him.

Before everyone else. Before himself too.

“You _don't_ want me to go with him, do you?”

Hajime looks at him and Tooru doesn't know to expect. But then Hajime grits his teeth angrily. “Of course I don't want you to go with him, you fucking idiot!” His hands grip tightly at the fabric of his pants and Tooru believes he's never seen him this frustrated before.

No, wait. Only once.

When they lost to Karasuno.

But still, this seems worse, Tooru isn't sure why, but then... He probably knows.

“Why did you never say anything. Or better, why did you tell me to go?” He instinctively wraps his arms around himself tighter, waiting for the impact – how he doesn't want this to be happening. They won't be able to fix it. Not anymore.

Of everything they could be doing right now, they are discussing this.

Tooru's chest hurts so badly it's painful to bear with. He hates this. He hates this so much.

“How could I?” Hajime asks, and this time it sounds different, all the anger gone but replaced by awful bitterness and obvious sorrow. Tooru wants to die. “I thought that if I asked you not to go, not only I would've dragged you down once again, but I would have risked you to blame me one day.”

Tooru doesn't understand. “Blame you? Blame you for what?!”

“For being weak.”

Tooru snaps, eyes sharp and blood rushing. “How can you even think I would do such a thing?!” He's screaming, trembling, on his feet by now, the anger overcoming him all at once. How can his best friend, the one who's spent his whole life with him, believe that he could possibly do something as horrible as to blame him for something so futile as being weaker than their rival?!

Hajime smiles this time, but there are tears on the corner of his eyes and Tooru breaks. They are about to spill out, run down tanned cheeks and there's nothing he can do to stop him. “It's the truth, _Tooru._ ”

Tooru stiffens, feels his own eyes burning too.

“You want to go with him and I won't be the one to stop you if that means destroying your dreams.”

Because Tooru is meant to play in Japan's National team, he's meant to be taken care of and be given everything he deserves and even more. Hajime can't give it to him, but Wakatoshi can. He's going to make him great.

And if Hajime has to sacrifice his own heart for that to happen, then so be it.

Yet, Tooru seems to not want to have any of it. He moves forward, his hands reaching to take a hold of Hajime's.

They are too close to each other, Hajime can't take this.

He needs to push him away.

“What about _your_ dreams, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime would be lying if he said the question doesn't catch him off guard.

Tooru chuckles, but there is no amusement behind it. “You should learn to be more selfish, Iwa-chan. You can't keep going on like this,” he tells him, voice calm but cracked.

Hajime's tears finally break the spiker's restrains and fall out freely. That idiot. How can he _not_ understand? After all this time, it should be more than obvious.

“You're more important.”

Tooru shuts his eyes tightly, bites his lip in order to hold back his own tears and it takes him a split second and no thinking. He leans forward, his hands now on Hajime's cheeks.

He kisses him.

It's impossible not to feel Hajime stiffen underneath him, but it doesn't last long until he's fully relaxed, arms making their way to wrap around Tooru's shoulders to pull him in and deepen the chaste and delicate kiss.

Hajime's never thought he would be craving for this so much, but the way Tooru's lips move over his, his arms hold him in a warm embrace... Oh God, he's missed this. He's missed this _so_ much.

Tooru's lips are gone too soon, but Tooru doesn't pull away.

Instead, he presses his forehead against Hajime's, a small smile on his face. Hajime knows he's ready to cry – he doesn't want to see him like this on their last night together. Hajime will blame himself forever for hurting him like this. Tooru doesn't deserve it, not when he's finally started to think about what's good for him.

“If only you had told me sooner, Iwa-chan...”

“I'm sorry.”

Tooru shakes his head, holds him tighter. “No... _No._ ”

He's whispering and Hajime can't help but feel his whole body screaming, begging him to tell him more. He should be getting it out of his chest, but he can't. He won't.

For Tooru's sake.

“It would've been worse,” he tells him instead.

He loves him.

He loves him, he loves him, _he loves him, heloveshimheloveshimhe-_

He pulls away, standing up from the couch after making Tooru untangle himself and making sure he's comfortable. He watches hazel eyes stare at him, wide and bright and so beautiful. He's beautiful. More than anyone or anything he's ever seen. He'll never stop thinking about it.

Tooru's hands aren't willing to let go of his, but Hajime forces them to.

“I have to go.”

Hazel starts to shine, turns wet and Hajime feels like punching himself but he can't stay here. He won't be able to hold himself back.

“I have to go,” he repeats one more time, though it's only needed for himself.

“Iwa-chan, please...”

“Oikawa, I'm sorry.”

“No... Iwa-chan...”

Hajime steps back, but Tooru isn't standing up from the couch. His eyes never leave him though.

Never.

Hajime turns around, feels that piercing stare tipping through his shirt and skin on his back, but he mustn't stop. He walks to the main hall, grabs his bag and puts on his shoes.

He sits on that stair for a moment, trying to collect both, thoughts and tears, but he just can't get a grasp of any.

He wants to go back there, take that idiot in his arms and tell him everything he's hidden from him until now, wants to expose the very core of his heart, but that is not something he can allow himself.

Tooru is more important.

Tooru has always been more important.

He'll get over it.

They both will.

“Iwa-chan...” His name comes out so quietly, but he doesn't reply. He stands up, tries to reach for the handle of the door and, despite it being so close, it seems like an impossible task to reach it.

“ _Thank you._ ”

He starts to cry once again, and he's sure his sobs are reaching Tooru's ears, but he's not coming. Hajime opens the door, watches the dark sky full of stars in front of him and closes his eyes.

“ _Goodbye_ , Oikawa.”

There is nothing else but silence after that.

Hajime gets out, closes the door behind himself, walks towards the street and his eyes can't help but glance to his right, where the large window of Tooru's living room is.

And he sees him.

Bent over the couch, face buried in one of the cushions.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces and all he wants to do is to try and get it back together, return inside the house...

But he _can't_.

_It will never be the same again._

Hajime walks down the street and doesn't look back.

It's better like this, he tells himself... It's better like this.

***

“ _Don't let me go, Iwa-chan.”_

“ _I won't.”_

***

Tooru doesn't know for how long he's been crying his eyes out. One thing's sure, the cushion underneath him is soaked and there is no way it's going to get dry anytime soon.

He turns his head to the side, body sprawled on the couch at his eyes stare emptily at the TV screen. He doesn't even see what's on, sight too clouded and senses too numb to even try to focus on something different than the searing pain his chest and abdomen.

He can't move.

His arms, his legs... They're stiff. He's numb.

His eyes move from the screen to his phone, which is lying forgotten on the coffee table between two empty glasses, but the strength to grab it and send a text to Hajime is nowhere to be found.

How he wants to get up and run after him. He's such a coward, the worst kind it seems – it's the second time this is happening and it's the second time he's not doing anything to stop it. This time it's unstoppable, isn't it? He thinks about it.

“ _Goodbye, Oikawa.”_

The mere memory makes his eyes burn as panic starts to overcome him. And then he's shaking again, lungs scream for air as his muscles tense. He wants to scream, but it is an impossible task for his current state.

It's been a long time since he's had a panic attack.

And this it the worst time to have one.

He's alone.

Hajime is gone.

He's alone.

_He's alone._

He tries to stand up, but his legs don't want to cooperate – he feels sweat forming on his forehead and his shoulders start to shake even more violently. He's never been good at dealing with anxiety and he hoped he was over it after the last time it made him finish in the hospital.

But it seems he was wrong.

Eventually he does stand up and his legs feel like jello.

He staggers to the kitchen and ends up throwing up into the sink. His stomach aches and once it's finally empty, Tooru's body grows limp. He breathes heavily, tries his best to fill his lungs with the air they need so badly.

He collapses on the kitchen floor.

His eyes catch a glimpse of the clock above the fridge.

10.30 pm.

So late...

His mother isn't coming home before midnight and he can't last that long.

He wonders if _he_ 's asleep.

When he feels a little bit of his strength back, he stands up. He cleans up the mess in the sink and it takes him more than fifteen minutes, but in the end he manages. He doesn't want his mother to worry.

He has to deal with his own shit, so he makes his way to the living room, grabs his phone and puts it in the pocket of his pants. After that, he makes his way to the main hall, puts on his shoes and gets out.

“ _You didn't lock the door?”_

“ _No, I forgot about it.”_

“ _How irresponsible.”_

He locks the door this time, even checks twice to make sure he did it correctly, as most of his senses are still numb. When done, he turns around and walks away.

For a summer night, it's quite chilly.

***

Wakatoshi doesn't expect a text from Iwaizumi Hajime at midnight on a Wednesday night.

He's getting ready for bed, as tomorrow he must rise particularly early, and all of a sudden his phone lights up. He puts on his t-shirt, adjusts the towel around his hair and then reaches out to grab it.

He observes it for a second and then opens it.

“ _Please, take care of him.”_

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow.

He's about to text him back, ask for an explanation but then the loud sound of the doorbell reaches his ears and he hopes his parents won't be awoken by it, so he gets out of his room as quiet as possible and heads for the door.

He can't help but feel irritated by the bother at this hour of the night. Whoever knows where he lives also knows he is supposed to get up before six tomorrow and there is no excuse for any kind of reason for this useless visit.

He unlocks the door and opens it.

Gold widens at the sight in front of him.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru is standing on the porch, eyes on the floor and arms limp on his sides. Only when Wakatoshi calls him once more does he raise his head, meeting his gaze.

There is a long moment of silence and frankly, Wakatoshi doesn't know what he should expect. He doesn't hear any noise behind him, so fortunately his parents' sleep wasn't disturbed – he really isn't in the mood for explanation tonight.

“What are you doing here?”

Tooru doesn't answer the question. He licks his lips, eyes sharper and piercing.

“Can I come in?”

Wakatoshi opens the door all the way without thinking twice, steps aside when he sees him walking towards him. Tooru's arms are wrapped around his torso as soon as they're close and Wakatoshi closes the door, locks it once again, then leads him to his bedroom.

Tooru's hand is sweating against his palm and he can feel it trembling.

He doesn't let him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm ready to hide somewhere and shoot myself. My heart just can't take this amount of angst. 
> 
> I hope this chapter came out well, because I really planned this to the very detail - I wanted the readers to be able to say one last farewell to Iwa-chan and Shirabu. Yeah... I think I'll be depressed for the next few weeks. I hoped to make it better by granting them one last kiss by the ones they love, but it seems that killed it.
> 
> Please don't hate me. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far; it really means a lot to me. Expect the last chapter of this first part within the next two weeks. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for the lovely Comments, Bookmarks and Kudos.


	14. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When are you going to be at the station?”
> 
> He can't help but let a smile escape him. He checks the hour on his phone. 15.43. And they've been already traveling for half an hour. He types his answer, “17.15,” and sends it without thinking twice, his smile only widens. He decides to send a second one. “Does this mean you're coming to pick me up?”
> 
> Wakatoshi's reply comes about a minute later.
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> He lets out a delighted laugh.

Tooru wakes up when the brightness of the sun illuminates his figure. His eyes open slowly, he blinks a couple of times to get used to it and then runs his hand over his face to send the last bits of sleepiness away.

He sits up slowly, feels the pleasing sensation of the white sheet againsy his bare legs, warm and yet fresh, comforting. He looks down at his naked body, observes the red marks gracing his pale skin, from his chest to his abdomen, to his hips; some even reaching his thighs.

Wakatoshi sure didn't hold back – not that Tooru asked him to.

But it was... different.

Tooru raises the blanket and notices his stomach is clean, as well as his inner thighs; there is also no sticky feeling between his legs. It seems Wakatoshi has taken care of cleaning him up after they finished, though he doesn't really remember it. Maybe he was already asleep. But he remembers being kissed a lot, the shape of the spiker's lips so impressed in his memory so good he can almost feel them if he replays their actions of last night.

He runs his thumb over his lips.

***

“ _Why are you here, Oikawa?”_

_They are in Wakatoshi's room, sitting on his futon, a glass of water on the desk and voices low. Tooru isn't looking at him, but he's still holding his hand, head resting on a muscled shoulder._

_Wakatoshi's allowing him to get comfortable against him and in this very moment, this is everything Tooru needs. Hazel looks up and meets gold, before moving down to his lips and stare at them for a moment only to look back up. He doesn't reply to his question this time either._

_Wakatoshi doesn't ask a third time._

_Tooru's tongue runs over his bottom lip before he straightens up. Wakatoshi observes him._

_A breath._

“ _Kiss me.”_

_Wakatoshi doesn't make him ask twice and soon Tooru is held between strong arms, back pressed into the mattress and head comfortable on white pillows. His breath is stolen away with every movement of the spiker's lips and there is no chance of getting it back – he decides he doesn't want it back at all._

_Tooru feels his tongue brushing against his lips and doesn't hesitate to open his mouth to welcome him in._

_***_

Tooru turns to look at the desk, finds a full glass of water replacing the one he emptied after they untangled from each other. He gets up to walk to it and immediately feels a light pain in his rear, which only makes more memories appear in the back of his mind.

It is not a searing pain.

Tooru can't say he minds or that it's going to bother him for the rest of the day.

He crawls to the desk, his hand immediately grabs the glass and he brings it to his lips, taking a sip. His eyes immediately notice a small piece of paper lying on the table and he takes it with his free hand.

_'Breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen. Don't worry about locking up when you leave. I'll see you tomorrow.'_

It is funny to think that Wakatoshi actually bothered to write and leave a note for him to read, but then... From tomorrow, they'll be living together. Tooru can't help but feel his throat going dry. He empties the glass within the next three seconds.

His clothes are waiting for him, neatly folded, next to the futon, close to his feet. He reaches them, finds his boxers in the pile and wears them. Soon after, he picks up the rest of them, throws them over his arm and stands up. He searches through his pants until he finds his phone in his pocket and, now sure he isn't forgetting anything, heads for the door to exits the room.

It's unavoidable, he looks around, wondering whether he's alone or not, but everything that welcomes him is dead silence. He heads for the bathroom.

Once inside, he lets out a breath he doesn't know he was holding, hazel focusing on the mirror on his left. He spots a couple of towels on the stool behind himself, the ones he remembers Wakatoshi drying him up with the first night he came here.

***

“ _Oh, fuck...”_

_No matter how hard he tries, he just can't hold his voice low. He knows he should be trying harder, but Wakatoshi's mouth is all over his cock, tongue swirling around him when the spiker pulls his head away._

“ _Oikawa...”_

“ _Please, don't stop. Oh, God..._ Please _.”_

_Wakatoshi returns to his ministrations, but this time he slides his hand up Tooru's stomach, reaches to his chest and neck until his fingers are reaching that delicious mouth. His index and middle finger immediately make their way between his lips, fingertips pressing hard against his tongue._

_Tooru hums in pleasure, closes his eyes._

_His hand finds Wakatoshi's hair and grips it tightly, inviting him to go faster. And Wakatoshi pulls away, replacing his mouth with his hand instead. He makes the setter shift, raising his hips gently so he gets a better access to his entrance._

_When he glances at Tooru's face, he finds wide, shiny eyes staring at him._

_He adjusts himself better and reaches his lower body once more._

_Tooru moans around calluses when Wakatoshi's tongue flickers around his hole and he can't help but feel his whole body shivering at the feeling._

“ _Mmm!”_

_Wakatoshi can't deny that he likes the reaction he gets; it makes him grunt, his cock growing incredibly hard and making his pants quite uncomfortable._

_He circles the hole with his mouth, places a wet kiss against it and Tooru's back arches violently. He repeats the action, enjoys watching Tooru writhe underneath him, making him feel like the only one able to make him fall apart like this. He wants to believe it'll be like this for a long time from now on. He wouldn't mind it to be a forever, but it's Tooru; he could always change his mind._

_His tongue flickers across the twitching hole, earning a surprised gasp and hands gripping his sheets tighter. And then he's pushing in, wanting to taste every single part of him and, despite the initial resistance, he manages to do so._

_Teeth graze the tip of his fingers, but he doesn't mind at all and instead pulls his tongue out, only to plunge it back in. He is taken by surprise when Tooru's hips buck forward and into his face, so he decides to adjust long legs against his shoulders so he can keep him steadier while tasting him as much as he can._

_He takes his time, and after what seems like a century, Tooru mumbles something against his fingers and it comes out incomprehensible. He doesn't understand any of it, so he pulls his hand back until he's only brushing his lips, and looks up, waiting for him to repeat._

_Tooru moans, eyes wet and small tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes._

_Wakatoshi almost fails to stop, almost buries his face between his legs and makes him come undone. Almost._

_But then..._

“ _Stop teasing me.”_

_Wakatoshi licks his lips._

“ _Just fuck me already...”_

_He fills his mouth again, watches him fall back onto the pillow, and then, with the fingers of his free hand, he collects his precum and decides to use it as lube along with his saliva to open him up._

_He runs his tongue over his fingers and then moves the index in circles around his entrance, trying not to give in and push it all the way in when Tooru's hips buck forward._

_He hears him whine, eyes glaring at him for teasing him so much. Wakatoshi pulls away, lips curved up ever so slightly. He slowly starts to press against the ring of muscle, but there seems to be almost no resistance and it gets in easily._

_Tooru stiffens, his muscles visibly tense. Wakatoshi pulls away, places a kiss to the inner side of his thigh, his finger starting to move in and out slowly._

_Tooru throws his head back, sighing in pleasure._

_Soon, Tooru's hips start to follow the slow rhythm of Wakatoshi's hand, back arching whenever Wakatoshi decides to curl it to brush his prostate. The spiker takes it as an encouragement and slides in a second finger, receiving a nibble against his own fingers as a response._

_He straightens up, raising the setter's hips from the mattress so he can keep moving his hand and also have a much better view of the most wonderful sight he's ever had the privilege to see. And despite having seen it quite a few times by now, he still finds it as gorgeous as that first time in the storage room._

_Tooru is now sucking against his fingers, eyes half-lidded as he enjoys being opened up and prepared for what is to come next._

_By the time the third digit is joining the other two, Tooru's meeting them in a steady rhythm, cock bouncing with every roll of hips._

_Wakatoshi loses himself, his hand moving faster._

_Suddenly, Tooru bites him. Hard. And Wakatoshi immediately pulls his fingers out of his mouth and gives him a confused look. His eyes focus on Tooru's flushed, gasping figure and he stops moving, waiting for him to speak._

_And he does._

“ _Ushijima...”_

_Wakatoshi's breath hitches in his throat._

“ _I'm ready.”_

_Wakatoshi doesn't even think twice, pulls out all three fingers at once, receiving a wince in response. He stands up from the futon, removes his pants and boxers in one go and then reaches for the lube in the first drawer of his desk before kneeling down again._

_His hands anchor themselves on Tooru's hips and he pulls him up and into a sitting position_

_Tooru raises an eyebrow, not quite understanding, but when Wakatoshi sits back and adjusts him on his thighs, he understands what this is about. So he steals the small bottle from large hands, pours a generous amount on his hand and then proceeds to smear it all over Wakatoshi's hard cock._

_Wakatoshi grits his teeth at the initial cold sensation, but Tooru makes sure to work him with his hand until it's warm enough. Wakatoshi doesn't stop him and when Tooru's sure he's coated enough, he moves forward, placing the tip of the member against his entrance, a hand gripping onto Wakatoshi's shoulder to steady himself before he starts to get down on him._

_***_

A hot bath is everything he needs right now.

Tooru's always liked his water to be full of bubbles and foam and this time it isn't an exception. He slides down, bends his legs so he's able to get as much of himself under the pleasant warmth and stops when it's under his neck.

He closes his eyes, sighing and finally relaxing his aching muscles.

He can't help but think about Wakatoshi. He forgot to check the clock in his room, but the sun is quite high already, so he must have left since a while and is probably half-way to his destination. And tomorrow Tooru is going to have to do the same.

He licks his lips, wraps his arms around himself, decides to take his time.

***

_Tooru manages to finally take him in fully and lets out a shattered breath, trying his best not to be loud. They can't afford to be found by the spiker's parents in this state, so he searches for Wakatoshi's face, inches apart from his own._

“ _U-ushiw... Ahn!”_

_Wakatoshi kisses him, hands moving slowly to place themselves on his hips and pull him closer. He tries not to move, wants to allow the setter to get adjusted to him._

_Tooru is placing gentle kisses on his lips, on his jaw, eyes closed and tears coming out on his cheeks._

_When Wakatoshi spots them, he kisses them away, caressing him gently and waiting until Tooru gives him a signal or starts moving himself, and after a good minute he does, raising ever so slightly on his legs and then sinking down again._

_He whimpers and immediately Wakatoshi swallows the sound. He feels Tooru's arms wrapping around his neck as he begins to pick a slow but steady rhythm._

_It is the first time they're taking it slow. The few times they did this before, they were taken by lust and impatience and_ need, _so strong they could barely keep their hands off themselves. It was particularly strong on Wakatoshi's part; years and years of waiting and hoping having taken the best part of his senses._

_They both want to change that tonight._

_Tooru's teeth take a gentle hold of Wakatoshi's earlobe and when the spiker starts to thrust up into him, Tooru instinctively digs his nails in the muscles of his back, exhaling heavily._

“ _More...”_

_***_

He walks to the kitchen, enjoying the quietness of the place. He finds his breakfast on the table, as promised. A neatly-wrapped package of milk bread, a cup of coffee and fresh orange juice Wakatoshi must have prepared before leaving.

Tooru sits at the table, takes his favorite food out of the bag and then spots a set of keys next to his glass, with another note placed under it.

Tooru takes a hold of both and examines them. The piece of paper contains an address.

In Tokyo.

Surprise overwhelms him.

It's Wakatoshi's apartment, _their_ apartment.

Tooru can't help but feel a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about it. He shakes his head, shoves everything in the pocket of his pants and takes a sip of his coffee. He can't believe it. _He can't believe it._

Why is he so... happy?

The bread tastes incredibly good; Wakatoshi must have gone to the bakery,or asked his parents to do it instead. Tooru hasn't met them yet and can't help but wonder where they are. Do they even know he's here?

Tooru can't help but wonder what kind of people they are. Well... To have a son with a personality like Wakatoshi's... they must be weird. Yeah, definitely.

Tooru chuckles at the thought and finishes his breakfast in silence, before he decides he should be returning home.

There is no rush, of course. He's always been good a packing his things, whether it's for a family trip, a training camp, or a school trip... So he prepared most of his things already – not that there was much. His clothes, a couple of photos, his Best Setter Award (he's never going to leave without it). Nothing else.

He has calculated to fit it all in two suitcases, so taking the train will be easy – he doesn't want to bother his parents. Driving to Tokyo is a long way but, despite the fact he won't be seeing them again before the first holidays that'll come around, he wants to take a train and a taxi to reach his destination.

It is quicker, and he also wants to catch the first glimpse of the new city by himself.

He stands up, brings the cup and glass to the sink, before cleaning the table quickly, and once finished with that too, he makes his way out of the house.

_'Don't worry about locking up.'_

His parents must be close.

He doesn't bother then.

***

_He's growing short of breath._

_Wakatoshi keeps thrusting deep into him from underneath. At some point, Tooru has pushed the spiker down, making him lie on his back._

_As much as Tooru likes when the spiker takes charge and presses him into the mattress, this time he is the one setting the pace, moving steadily, meeting eager hips at the right angle and seeing stars whenever Wakatoshi's cock hits his prostate._

_Tooru wants to do so much more, wants to ask him just how much he is enjoying it, wants to tease him, play with him. But he just can't bring himself to._

_He throws his head back, mouth gaping open as he starts to move faster. He feels so much fuller in this position and he can't take it... He's getting close, and from the way Wakatoshi's grip on his hips tightens, he believes it's the same for him as well._

_He's getting close, feels heat pooling in his stomach and immediately moves to grab his leaking cock, stroking it in time with Wakatoshi's thrusts. He can't help but moan at the incredible friction, but immediately Wakatoshi's hand raises to the back his neck and he pulls him down to himself, crashing their lips together._

_Tooru can't help but melt into it, letting himself go and allowing Wakatoshi to take charge, knowing more than well he won't be able to hold back otherwise._

_Wakatoshi rolls them over so he's on top, starts to thrust at a frantic pace and Tooru's back arches into him, but is immediately pressed back into the mattress by the weight of the spiker. His legs are adjusted around his waist and Tooru doesn't hesitate to lock them, bringing him impossibly closer._

_Wakatoshi buries his face in those soft, messy locks of brown hair, grunts at how good that tight warmth feels around him._

_Tooru gives himself a few more strokes and comes, back arching as white spills all over his own stomach and Wakatoshi's. The man seems to appreciate the sticky feeling between their skin and slams harder inside of him, making Tooru's breath hitch in his throat._

_Wakatoshi kisses him, before straightening up, the grip on his hips tightening considerably and he gives those last few thrusts as hard as he can and it's so hard Tooru can barely think. And then he's burying himself inside of him, as deep as their bodies allow him, and comes inside of him, filling him with his cum._

_Tooru's eyes roll back in his head, mouth wide open but no sound coming out._

_He can't take this._

_***_

The walk to his house is calm and peaceful. While it is still chilly at night, Spring is ending and Summer is about to begin, and if Tooru has to be honest, this is his favorite part of the year – warm days and fresh nights; could it be any better?. He wonders if there are any cherry trees in the yards of the campus.

When he reaches his house, he finds his mother at home.

She gets out of the living room as soon as she hears the door being opened. Tooru immediately spots something wrong in her look.

“Where have you been?”

Tooru blinks a couple of times. “At Ushiwaka's.”

Oh shit. He realizes it onlynow.

She stops a couple of steps away from him. “Why didn't you tell me you would be spending the night there?”

“I forgot.” And it's true. After cleaning the kitchen and going out, he completely forgot to call her or text her... or anything to let her know. It's the first time something like this has happened – especially because if he ever forgot to call her, it was Hajime who did it.

But there is no more Hajime.

His mother isn't angry for long. She walks towards him and wraps her arms around him. “I was worried! You can't do this to me!”

He apologizes quietly, hugs her back. When she pulls back, there are tears in her eyes, and Tooru doubts it's because of him not telling her where he has been. It's so much more than that.

His lips curve up slightly. “Can you help me to finish packing my things?” When she nods, her hand finds his and she leads him up to his bedroom, where his scattered clothes are still waiting since yesterday afternoon.

She reaches them first, starts to neatly fold them and put them one by one in the first suitcase next to the bed. Tooru soon joins to help her and in less than half an hour, all of his clothes are packed and ready to go. Tooru fills the second case with the framed photographs of Kitagaya Daiichi and Aobajōsai and his award.

“You can't forget this one.”

He turns around, hazel eyes searching for his mother. He finds her holding his old alien plushie, which he's always kept next to his bed. It is not particularly big, but as a kid he was completely in love with it (he's still in love with it). He can't help but laugh when he takes it in his hands.

“Yeah, I can definitely fit it in.”

“I'm glad.”

Tooru finishes the last touches and then turns around. “Is dad going to come tomorrow?”

His mother smiles. “Of course he is! He took a day off from work tomorrow. He said he knows I'll be crying for the rest of the day and he wants to take care of me.” They both laugh at that and Tooru once again has the privilege of seeing how in love his parents are even after all these years.

“That's perfect then.”

“Are you sure you don't want us to take you to your apartment?”

He shakes his head. “No, that won't be needed. I can manage on my own.”

The woman smiles, hugs him from behind and then looks up. “I'll make you a latte, okay?” Tooru nods and they head out of the room and head into the kitchen. Tooru patiently waits for her to prepare their drinks and then helps her to take it all to the living room, where they both let themselves fall on the couch.

There is a movie they had agreed to watch weeks ago and Tooru couldn't be more happy. He lets his mother lie on him and he makes them both comfortable, building a nest of cushions all around them.

Their eyes are focused on the screen and there is silence, until his mother asks _the_ question.

“Is Hajime-kun going to come over later?”

Tooru feels something weird in the pit of his stomach.

“No, he isn't.”

“Oh.”

_'Please, don't ask anything else.'_

She doesn't.

Tooru is glad, wraps his arms around her and drifts into a dreamless slumber, the ache in his lower stomach and lower back almost gone and forgotten.

***

_When fully spent, Wakatoshi lets himself collapse on top of the setter, though he's still conscious enough of his actions to be careful not to crush him under his weight. They catch their breath after a while and only then does Wakatoshi pull out of him and collapses to his side._

_Tooru looks at him, brown eyes dark and exhausted._

“ _Ushiwaka-chan?”_

_Wakatoshi looks at him, instinctively wraps an arm around him when he raises his head, and pulls him closer, until he's pressed on his side. He just can't take his eyes off of him._

_Tooru feels heat in his cheeks and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him and this bloody day, but there is more... He's embarrassed. He doesn't know how he can possibly say it, or better..._  repeat _it,_ _when they are piercing through him like this._

“ _I...”_

_Wakatoshi's attention is all on him._

_Tooru moves up gently, bringing their faces close. He feels hot breath against him and his eyes flutter shut._

“ _Kiss me.”_

_Wakatoshi doesn't hesitate to make their lips meet, his hand travels on Tooru's body and places on his hip. Soon, they roll over and Wakatoshi is back on top and Tooru is pulling him closer, impossibly closer. He opens his mouth for him to assault it, moans lowly when his tongue slips in._

_Tooru wraps his arms around his neck, while Wakatoshi keeps a firm hold of his sides, thumbs pressing into his hipbones._

_And then the spiker feels teeth biting his bottom lip and growls before pulling away, leaving a breathless setter underneath him. “I want more.”_

“ _When we're in our apartment.”_

_He doesn't believe the setter is going to be able to keep quiet if they do it a second time. Tooru huffs, but understands the situation and nods. Wakatoshi kisses the corner of his mouth and then lies again on his back, inviting the other to lie on his chest._

_Tooru's eyes never leave his though._

“Our _apartment?”_

 _Wakatoshi smiles. “_ Our apartment _.”_

_***_

“Ready to go?”

Tooru turns towards the door, finds his father smiling at him. And he smiles back, takes a hold of his phone and wallet and puts them in the pocket of his jeans.

“Ready to go.”

He walks out, follows his father down the stars and towards the entrance. He turns around, gives one last glance to his house. He's going to miss this place. Definitely.

He takes the last step and meets the outside's fresh air. His mother is waiting in the car, along with his sister and Takeru. He smiles, sits on the back seat next to them and in a blink of an eye, his father is sitting in the driver's seat and they are leaving.

Tooru observes his street, the street where he grew up, and he can't help but feel a lump growing in his throat and he hopes he won't cry. He highly doubts he'll be able to hold back when the time to step on the train is going to come.

He spots Hajime's house when they turn the corner, silently wonders whether he'll be there so they can say a proper goodbye to each other. He _needs_ a proper goodbye, doesn't want to remember the one that brought a sick feeling to his stomach. Best friends shouldn't get torn apart so easily.

Surprisingly, there isn't a lot of traffic once they get to the main street. Usually it's the busiest in the city, but it's way past the of lunch time so it's actually a very possible thing, Tooru figures.

Hazel eyes close, memories taking shape in the back of his mind.

Just a little more and none of this is going to be within reach anymore. Will he be able to remember _all_ of it once his new life begins?

The drive to the station takes less time than expected and Tooru doesn't know why, but the lump keeps growing. They get out of the car and he helps his father to take his luggage out of the trunk. Takeru insists on taking his backpack and Tooru knows he won't give up unless he grants it to him, so he says yes.

He runs ahead of them, and Tooru's sister calls out to him to tell him to be careful. Tooru looks at her with a fond smile on his face. “You've become an amazing mom, onee-san.” She smiles and punches him in the shoulder. “Did you have doubts about it?”

“Nope.”

He knows he'll get punched if he says otherwise.

His sister and Iwa-chan have always gotten along when it comes to this.

His mother takes his hand and he smiles at her, hoping to be able to reassure her, because there are already tears in her eyes and it is a matter of minutes before they spill out. They do when they reach his binary and she sees the train already waiting for her son.

It is leaving in ten minutes, so she takes this time to hug him and cover him in kisses as much as she can. She even manages to soak his shoulder, but it doesn't matter. He knows how she gets, since it was the same when his sister moved out and only a few blocks away from home.

His father approaches him, separates his mother from him and embraces her with one arm. She starts to soak the side of his shirt as well and Tooru can't help but laugh.

“Take care, son,” he tells him and Tooru's eyes widen. “I can't wait to see what you're going to become.”

Takeru runs up to him and stops once he bumps into his shirt, hands clutching the hem of his shirt. “Will I see you on TV when the tournaments start?”

He receives a pat on his head. “Of course you will! Uncle Tooru is going to be the best, I promise you.”

Instead of cheering up, he starts to cry and Tooru feels his heart swell, crush his ribcage badly. He can't take this.

“Is the princess about to cry too?”

Tooru's breath hitches in his throat. He turns around.

“Makki?”

No...

His team.

His _beloved_ team.

He feels his tears spilling out on his cheeks when Issei brings him his jersey. That light blue number one is staring at him and he doesn't know why they have it, since he remembers giving it back to the coach so Shigeru could inherit it next year.

“This one's yours.”

Hazel eyes widen when Shigeru walks up behind him. “I'll request another one to be made.”

The others approach him too. Takahiro, Shinji, Kentarō, Yūtarō, Akira...

Everyone but _him._

Tooru tries to look behind them, see if he's here, _hoping Hajime's here._

But he isn't.

The others seem understanding of his disappointment, but they don't let him spend his thoughts on it too much.

“So,” Takahiro begins. “Are we going to hear about you from now on? You must probably want to make the most of Ushiwaka's abilities to get to the top.”

Tooru smirks. “You can count on that.”

And then...

A pat on his shoulder.

A second one.

A third one.

Every single one of his players makes sure to give him all of their encouragement through their touch. And even though the most important bit is missing, Tooru feels his courage back in his chest, stronger than ever.

The train is announced to leave in two minutes and Tooru turns around to face his family. His mother approaches him and kisses him one last time,before he lets out a shattered breath and proceeds to take his luggage onto the train.

He knows he's about to break down too, it's only a matter of minutes, and he doesn't want them to see him like this. He reaches his seat and is pleased to find out it's the one his family is standing underneath. He puts his bags in their place above where his seat and then proceeds to make himself comfortable on it, eyes never leaving his family.

His mother's crying harder and Takeru is too and he can't do anything anymore because the train is starting to move, slowly increasing speed and _leaving_.

A girl around his age apologizes and tells him she's going to travel next to him, but he pays her no mind. Hazel follows the people he loves and soon he can't see them again. In front of him there are random people, who most likely came to say goodbye to their beloveds, or to wait for them...

Lots of strangers.

And then he sees _him_.

“Iwa-chan...” It is a mere whisper, but he's there.

Only for a second.

A hand in the air, a smile on his face.

Tooru leans forward, sweaty palms against the glass of the window, tears in his eyes. This wasn't supposed to go like this. He needed to talk to him one last time and instead, they are splitting up like this.

Tooru spots a number four on his shirt, and instinctively clutches his jersey tighter.

And then he's gone.

He falls back into his seat, gaze cloudy and empty, his heartbeat so slow it feels like it's going to stop.

“Um... Are you okay?” the girl in front of him asks and her voice lets him out of a daze and releases a breath from his lungs.

He observes. A simple girl, with brown hair and big brown eyes, not too much make-up and cute clothes. She seems pretty collected, sitting correctly in her place, hands on her lap holding a thick book. Her expression shows a little bit of worry for him.

Tooru swallows.

He isn't okay. Of course he isn't okay.

She smiles sympathetically and tilts her head to the side. “Are you leaving for college?”

He nods.

“First time?”

He nods once again.

She looks at him fondly. “You can cry if you want; it's much better to let it out.”

Tooru wants to say something, his mouth opens but no words come out. She doesn't bother to stare at him and instead gives him his space, grabs her book and opens it. Her eyes lose themselves into the words printed on the first page.

He can't help but feel thankful for her understanding. He lowers his head, holds his jersey tightly and lets himself go into quiet crying, allowing only a few muffled sobs escape his lips.

***

_Wakatoshi throws the thin sheet over both of them after he is done cleaning them and once they both relax, Tooru takes the still standing offer and places his head on his collarbone, sighing contently._

_His eyelids feel heavy, but he isn't ready to drift into his slumber just yet._

_His hand moves up to trace invisible lines on the hard skin of Wakatoshi's chest and the spiker can't help but observe it, so graceful even at this simple action._

_He doesn't miss Tooru's exhausted face._

“ _You should sleep, Oikawa. You look exhausted.”_

_Tooru's lips curve up ever so slightly._

“ _Of course I'm exhausted after everything you did to me just now.”_

_Wakatoshi says nothing, pulls him a little more into him, letting Tooru bury his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and then placing a gentle kiss on the crown of his head._

_***_

“Would you like a tissue?”

Tooru blinks, remembers where he is. He straightens his head, which was leaned on the window, and looks at the smapll plastic packet offered to him. He sniffs, remembers all the times Hajime's called him an ugly crier and supposes he isn't a very beautiful sight for the girl to have in front of her eyes.

Not that he'll ever admit it out loud.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles, pulls out one single tissue and fortunately manages to put himself together without emptying the rest of the box.

“Don't worry about it.”

Tooru finally feels the comfortableness of his seat and is able to relax into it. He lets out a sigh.

“Better?” the girl asks.

“Better.”

She only smiles, eyes never leaving her book. She has managed to read about thirty pages ever since they left, which means it hasn't been long.

He decides not to bother her; she seems very interested in those words, so he pulls out his phone and frowns ever so slightly when he sees only one message coming from Wakatoshi. Hajime could have at least wished him a safe trip.

***

_Tooru doesn't see Hajime for four years, three months and sixteen days._

***

He reads the text and his frown disappears completely.

“ _When are you going to be at the station?”_

He can't help but let a smile escape him. He checks the hour on his phone. 15.43. And they've been already traveling for half an hour. He types his answer, _“17.15,”_ and sends it without thinking twice, his smile only widens. He decides to send a second one. _“Does this mean you're coming to pick me up?”_

Wakatoshi's reply comes about a minute later.

“ _Yes.”_

He lets out a delighted laugh.

“Something good happened?” the girl asks, finally looking away from her book. Tooru nods slightly, feeling his cheek heat up at the way it all came natural. “I guess...”

The girl smiles. “It looks more than an 'I guess' to me.”

Tooru blinks and then he remembers a very important detail. “What's your name?”

“Yagami Reika. Yours?”

“Oikawa Tooru.”

Reika smiles, closes her book and puts it inside of her bag, and hazel meets hazel. “So, wanna talk about this special someone who just texted you?” she asks with a smile. And Tooru can't help but like her: she's incredibly outgoing for a girl (the ones around him are always shy when he talks to them), but not in an uncomfortable way.

He smirks. “That's one long story, Yagami-chan.”

She checks the watch on her wrist and chuckles. “We have more or less an hour an a half. More than enough I believe.”

Tooru laughs. “More than enough indeed.”

***

“ _I'm tired, Ushiwaka-chan.”_

_Wakatoshi's caresses on his shoulder turn much more delicate, feathery, and leave goosebumps in their wake wherever his fingertips brush._

“ _We should sleep, Oikawa. I have to get up early.”_

_Tooru sighs against him, closes his eyes. “Did I bother you by coming here?” If this was any normal encounter between them, Tooru wouldn't be so concerned, and would tease him instead. But tonight he can't bring himself to._

“ _No.”_

_Wakatoshi's answer comes immediately._

_He doesn't want the setter to get the wrong idea. He could never be a bother._

_Tooru hums, wraps his arm around him and winces ever so slightly when Wakatoshi takes his hand and holds it tight._

“ _Goodnight, Oikawa.”_

“ _Mmm... Night.”_

_***_

The train comes to a stop and their talk comes to an end.

“Looks like we're here,” Reika says as she stands up. Tooru stands up as well and smiles in return.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Oikawa Tooru.”

They shake hands and then each one of them proceeds to take down their bags. Once they have their things set up and ready to get out, Reika turns to look at him. “I wish you good luck from now on.”

Tooru nods. “Thank you.”

With that, they part ways. Tooru manages to drag both his suitcases without too much trouble, all while keeping his backpack on his shoulder like he planned. He steps down and feels the surprisingly fresh air, though much more humid than what it was like in Sendai, hit his face.

He breathes in, before moving aside so he doesn't get in the way of other people.

He looks around, eyes looking for that familiar tall figure, but he doesn't see him. There weren't many people in Sendai, but here... It's another story. He decides to walk towards the exit; maybe he'll find him there. He's not really sure where he's supposed to go, so he just follows the flow.

He can't deny the panic he feels rising in the pit of his stomach when he doesn't see him after five minutes. He shoves his hand in his pocket and looks for his phone and then he feels a hand placing itself on his shoulder. He gasps and turns around.

“ _Oikawa._ ”

He finally regains his ability to breath normally.

“Ushiwaka-chan...”

Tooru sees gold and the weirdness is all gone, his stomach turning back to normal. And all the fear from before disappears like nothing, especially when Wakatoshi leans forward and takes a hold of one of the suitcases, making their hands brush in the meanwhile. Tooru's stare moves to it, before Wakatoshi catches his attention by extending a hand towards him. Tooru raises an eyebrow.

“Let me take your backpack as well.”

Oh.

But he doesn't complain and instead slides it off his arm and hands it to him.

“Shall we go?”

The setter nods and lets the spiker walk ahead of him so he can follow him quietly. He has started to go the right way after all, but now he is sure of it.

Once on the street, Tooru's eyes widen.

Sendai sure is nothing like this, even though it's a big city.

There are lots of people, cars... So much life going on and on, in an almost frantic rhythm.

Tooru loves it.

He observes every detail, every person who slows down for whatever reason, every car, the giant screens on the buildings... and he feels breathless (and a little bit out of place... but it's still amazing).

He doesn't notice Wakatoshi raising his hand to call a taxi, who stops in front of them, and only when the young man comes out to help them with the luggage and approaches Tooru, does he regain his capability to focus on something other than his surroundings. Wakatoshi is looking at him, waiting for him to come closer.

“You first,” he tells him, his hand motioning to the car. Tooru nods and gets inside, followed by Wakatoshi, who sits at a respectable distance.

The driver asks for the address and Wakatoshi tells him, but it doesn't even reach Tooru's ears as he loses himself in the magnificent city in front of him. He leans on the door and observes everything he can during the ride.

“What do you think of it?” Wakatoshi asks.

Tooru turns to look at him.

“The city.”

Tooru blinks, feels his heart starting to race. “It's amazing.”

Wakatoshi smirks and then look the other way. He's glad Tooru is here, so much more than he is capable of showing. He will do his best to let him know _tonight_.

Tooru doesn't see him turning his head back towards him, doesn't see gold observing every part of him, from his head, to his chest, to his legs... He doesn't see the desire in his eyes, the almost imperceptible trembling in his fingers – Wakatoshi wants to touch him, to make sure he is here with him, and not just another desperate dream after continuous refusals.

“Are you hungry?”

Tooru nods. “I am. I had lunch quite early, so my stomach's aching by now.”

“I'll prepare you something then. Do you want anything in particular?”

The setter smirks. “Surprise me.”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow, but then approves. “Very well.”

Before Tooru has the chance of turning back to the gorgeous view he's always wanted to see, the driver speaks: “We're here.” Tooru straightens up, but doesn't even get the chance to react when Wakatoshi hands the man the few bills for the drive.

“You should have let me pay,” he tells him with a pout when they get out and take the setter's luggage.

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side. “Next time I will,” he says. But he doesn't have the intention of keeping that promise. Though he doesn't let him know that.

Before entering the building, which is very modern and has this something screaming “new” and “fresh” all over the place, Tooru looks at his new street. They are very close to the center, apparently. It took them about ten minutes to get here and there are lots of bars and shops and restaurants...

Tooru _loves_ it. A lot.

This he can't deny, no matter how much he promised he would tease Wakatoshi during their time in his apartment.

“Come, Oikawa.”

Tooru turns to look at him and reaches him, though he doesn't miss the chance to tell him, “I'm not a dog, Ushiwaka-chan.” Wakatoshi assures him he didn't even think about him being one. “You must want to rest.”

Tooru likes how he can read him so well – he's picking up everything he wants him to. But he won't go to sleep as soon as he's done eating. He wants to unpack, wash himself, and then have a little _fun_ with his future wing spiker. After all, he _was_ promised to be given more.

***

_Wakatoshi awakes two minutes before six, just in time to turn his alarm off to prevent Tooru from waking up._

_He wants him to rest as much as possible, so when he has to untangle himself from his embrace and sheets, he makes sure to do it as gently and quietly as possible. He takes a mental note to tell his parents he's here, so when they get out to work in the garden in the back of the house, they won't lock him in._

_He somehow manages to get rid of the sheet, making sure he doesn't uncover the setter, but when he grabs his arm to unwrap it from him, Tooru moans and hazel eyes open ever so slightly._

“ _What are you doing?”_

_Wakatoshi swallows. “I have to get up, Oikawa. My train leaves in three hours.”_

_Tooru buries his face in his shoulder, sighing and acting as if he didn't hear him at all. He doesn't even let go of him._

“ _Oikawa.”_

“ _Mmm?”_

“ _I have to get up.”_

“ _No.”_

“ _You can keep sleeping.”_

_Tooru lets go of him at that, almost reluctantly, and turns to the other side, allowing him to finally sit up. And Wakatoshi does, but doesn't stand up before giving a gentle ruffle to fluffy brown hair._

_When on his feet, he makes sure not to step on the setter and when he is sure he is out of danger, he goes to retrieve his clothes and puts it on._

_He heads towards the kitchen and finds his mother already at the table._

“ _Good morning,” he greets ther and she greets him back. He finds breakfast for him already prepared when he sits in his chair and he mutters a quiet thank you._

“ _Could you do me a favor, mom?”_

_The woman looks at him and smiles. “Of course, darling. What do you need?”_

_He then explains they are not alone, says Tooru usually wakes up around ten o'clock, and asks them if she could not disturb him – even because she would find him_ naked _in his bed and that would be anything but appropriate._

_As expected, his mother don't ask questions – he has told her about his feelings towards the setter a long time ago and she has never seemed to mind too much. She was even happy when she saw him during a game Wakatoshi was watching._

“ _Does he eat anything in particular?”_

“ _Milk bread.”_

_She assures him she'll go and get it in the bakery later. Wakatoshi tells her to prepare coffee and orange juice too._

_Once he finishes eating, he stands up and heads to the bathroom, where he brushes his teeth and takes a quick shower. He washes himself quickly and then just stops and enjoys the warm feeling overcoming him slowly. He kind of wishes Tooru was here too and shakes his head slightly at the type of thoughts running through his mind at the mere image of the setter's naked body flashing in front of his eyes._

_He turns off the water and steps out, takes two towels. One he wraps around his hips, while with the other one he dries himself up before wrapping it around his neck. Like that, he makes his way to his room._

_Tooru hasn't changed position ever since left and if he had time, Wakatoshi would get closer and watch him sleep, take some more time to observe the little details he still misses, or to check out the ones he's already seen. He could touch his hands, kiss them. Kiss Tooru's lips._

_He tells himself to be patient._

One _more day and it's going to be that way._

_He opens his wardrobe, pulls out the clothes he has prepared for himself last night and then checks whether there is something he left behind, but being the person he is, it is highly unlikely._

_Though there's still his Shiratorizawa uniform, in the lowest corner._

_His eyes look at it for a moment and then he looks at Tooru, before he decides to take a hold of them, reach his luggage and slip it in. He then dresses up, wipes his hair once more and then takes the towels back to the bathroom where he hangs them to dry._

“ _Good morning, Wakatoshi!_   _We have to leave in half an hour, or you're going to miss the train,” his uncle tells him from the corridor._

“ _Yes.”_

_He returns to his room and finally makes his way to the setter once again. He crouches on the floor, adjusts the sheet over him and then focuses on his sleeping face. Even though there's a thin line of drool on his chin, he's still incredibly gorgeous._

_His fingers find their way to his hair and for a moment, he takes his time to play with it for a moment, before Tooru moves and hazel eyes open ever so slightly to look at him_

“ _Are you leaving?”_

“ _Yes.”_

_Tooru mumbles something and even someone as sharp as Wakatoshi doesn't understand it. So he asks him to repeat it._

“ _You'd better not leave without kissing me goodbye.”_

_Wakatoshi blinks in confusion. Tooru is most likely drunk with sleep and tiredness he doesn't know what he's saying. Yet, he gives him what he has asked for and gives him a peck on the corner of his mouth, to which Tooru isn't even able to respond because he's to have already fallen back asleep._

_Wakatoshi moves away from him and takes a hold of his suitcase and makes his way to the door._

“ _Have a safe trip,” Tooru says as he moves._

_Wakatoshi feels a warm feeling in his chest and thanks him quietly._

_***_

Tooru is more than pleased to find out there is an elevator in their condo, especially because Wakatoshi only now tells him they live on the fourth floor, and for a moment Tooru's vision blacks out at the thought of the stairs separating them from their place, until he sees the comfort that's making all the possible fatigue that comes with dragging suitcases for four fucking floors go away.

It is large. Four people could fit in just fine and there would still be enough space for them to breathe.

And yet, Tooru stands closer to the spiker. Not too close, but close enough to feel warmth irradiating from him, making his own muscles relax and bring a pleasant feeling to his whole body. He loses track of the few seconds it takes them to get on their floor and when they do, Wakatoshi leads the way out and towards their door.

Tooru tries to catch every single detail of it and his eyes widen when he spots the doorbell, on which there is a fresh label that says “Oikawa/Ushijima”.

Tooru licks his lips and winces when he hears the door being open.

Wakatoshi is looking at him expectantly, his left hand motioning for him to go in first. And Tooru does, taking hesitant steps and looking around. After one meter, he finally sees the large open space behind the wall, where the kitchen and living room are, and his mouth drops open as he loses himself in the huge space they have for themselves. He looks to the other side and finds the door that leads to their rooms and from where he's standing, he spots an open door of the first bedroom and the one of the bathroom.

This place is spacious.

 _Ridiculously_ spacious.

It is a family apartment, not a two-college-students apartment.

Tooru can't believe he even thought about staying in the dorm.

Though he doesn't know where he's supposed to go... _If_ he's allowed to go anywhere. It feels... Rather unfamiliar.

“ _Welcome home._ ”

Tooru's body freezes, a shiver suns down his spine. But it's not uncomfortable... On the contrary... It feels kind of nice, perhaps reassuring, but also very confusing.

Home?

He turns around, eyes looking for the man and when he finds him, hazel widens.

Wakatoshi is _smiling_.

It is not flashy, nor particularly bright if compared to Tooru's...

But it's _genuine_ nonetheless.

A rare, genuine smile... Of Ushijima Wakatoshi. A smile that makes gold shine more than Tooru has ever seen it in the last couple of months. And he's probably staring a bit too much, but fuck manners. In this very moment, he doesn't give a damn.

His hands fall limp on his side; his suitcase falls on the floor with a loud thump.

He's saying it all without speaking, loud and clear.

He can't help but smile too.

Home...

Wakatoshi closes the door, approaches him.

Tooru looks up. He doesn't curse those five centimeters this time.

And instead, lets himself _fall_ all over again.

“It's good to be here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God.
> 
> Did I just complete a multi-chaptered fanfiction? Yes, I did!
> 
> Seriously, you can't even imagine the sense of acomplishment I feel in this very moment. This has never happend before! *screams*
> 
> Anyway... I had so many ideas in my mind for this chapter, but I wasn't able to fit it all in 8000 words, so I decided to put the things I liked more. With this, I complete the first part of the "Beginnings and Endings" collection - whoa, I can't believe this whole thing was born from a piece thatwas meant to be a one-shot... Oh, well.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading and putting up with me and my mistakes and the endless time it took me to update and get it over it. I seriously can't believe so many people have left Kudos and Comments and... Gah! I'm so happy I could die. 
> 
> I know there are things that still need to be fixed and I apologize for that - I repeat: English is not my native language and I don't have a beta reader, so please understand if you spot some mistyping or repetition somewhere. I promise I'll reread it in the near future and I'll try to fix as much as my knowledge will allow me.
> 
> So, yeah... I hope you will decide to follow the sequels as well - I have already started to plan them, but first I want to dedicate some time to my other fanfiction. I really neglected it for too long.
> 
> I believe this is it then. I hope you enjoy this last chapter - until next time!


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